


Wishes and Dreams

by Attenia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 14:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Everyone knows Merlin and Arthur are in love except Merlin and Arthur. Frustrated with their blindness, Morgana decides to force them to acknowledge their feelings for each other. How long can they deny their deepest wishes and dreams? Merthur. Happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s raining and they’re almost back from a long hunt. Arthur had his men go ahead while he walked with Merlin. The idiot is so cold he’s walking at a snail’s pace. “Here,” Arthur says, taking off his coat and draping it around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin pulls the fabric close around him. Even soaked, it’s warm against his skin.  
“Th – thanks,” he stutters through his chattering teeth.   
I don’t like to see you cold. Of course, the words that come out are never the same as the thoughts. “Well, I can’t have you freezing to death out here, can I?” Arthur says jokingly. “I’d have to carry your body all the way back to Camelot, and then who would clean my chambers?”  
Merlin laughs shakily, slipping into their usual easy banter as he gradually warms up. He’s touched by Arthur's gesture. Arthur is always nicer when there’s no one around. It didn’t used to be like that, but now it’s almost like Arthur has to fight to treat him as usual for appearances. Of course, Merlin is an idiot, he’s probably imagining it. Even if he isn’t, he doesn’t know why. It seems he spends most of his time around Arthur confused nowadays.   
Arthur watches Merlin out of the corner of his eye. Now that he’s warmer, Merlin is blabbering nonsense as usual. He’s not sure what to make of Merlin nowadays. Arthur used to be able to abuse and bait him with no scruples, but over the last few months, he’s lost pleasure in it. All he really wants is for Merlin to be happy and cared for.   
This makes no sense to him, so he deals with it by treating Merlin normally in front of others, while allowing himself to lapse when they are alone. It’s getting harder, though. Sometimes he gets headaches just trying to work out what he thinks of Merlin.   
The rain is coming down hard by the time they get back to Camelot. Lancelot bravely rides out to meet them with two spare horses so that they whistle through the last leg of the trip. Merlin is shivering violently by then. Stupid idiot, he should eat more, no wonder he’s cold! Arthur thinks, eyeing Merlin's skinny frame angrily. He’ll make himself sick like that…  
Morgana is waiting to greet them in the entrance, all warm and dry; Arthur stomps inside, thoroughly bad-tempered.   
“You,” he snaps at a passing servant. “Get me some blankets, now!”  
The boy runs to the nearest closet while Arthur takes his soaking coat off Merlin's back. He grabs two thick blankets from the servant and drapes them over Merlin's shoulders. Morgana is watching with narrowed eyes, but Arthur's eyes are on Merlin.   
“I’m f – fine, Arthur,” he insists, but Arthur ignores him and marches him upstairs, giving Morgana only a perfunctory greeting.   
“Right, I want a bath, now,” Arthur says briskly as soon as they are in his rooms. Merlin sighs, but drops the blankets to the floor. “And I want it hot!” Arthur shouts to his retreating back. Merlin breaks into a grudging jog, muttering something that sounds like ‘prat’ as he goes. Arthur smiles; he’ll warm up like that, running all over the castle with hot water.  
When the bath is finally full, Arthur plops onto his bed and opens a book.   
“Seriously, Arthur?” Merlin says, exasperated. “Did I really just fill that stupid tub for nothing?”  
“No, you idiot. You’re going to take a bath first. I can go after you.”  
Merlin gapes at him.  
“Merlin, if your fingers fall off from cold, you can’t very well perform your duties, now can you? Just get into the bath.”  
Merlin's face goes bright red, but Arthur turns strategically on his side, facing away from Merlin and giving him some privacy. Arthur isn’t sure when the inappropriate desire for his manservant crept up on him, but since he realised the problem, he’s been staying well away from situations involving himself and Merlin and nudity. Merlin teased him endlessly about finally learning to dress himself, but he’s used to it now.  
Merlin groans in the bath as he leans his head back and the muscles in his neck throb. He must have slept funny. Arthur is up at once. “What’s wrong?” he demands.  
“Nothing,” Merlin says, going bright red again.  
“Merlin…”  
“It’s just my neck, but it’s fine,” Merlin mumbles. Before he can protest, Arthur's hands are on his neck, and then he doesn’t want to protest anymore. Arthur is rubbing the sore muscles, working out the tension. It feels delightful. Merlin can’t stop a moan of pleasure escaping his lips as his head rolls back. Arthur chuckles at his reaction.  
As Arthur's hands work steadily down to Merlin's shoulders, Merlin becomes aware of a rising problem. He puts his knees up, trying to stop Arthur from noticing, but he obviously fails miserably, as Arthur steps away, his breathing rather ragged.   
Merlin has been struggling with his infatuation with Arthur's beautiful body for years. Arthur seems to have noticed recently, as he’s been keeping Merlin at arm’s length, physically at least. It’s a relief in one way, but Merlin still misses touching Arthur when dressing him, even if it was painful at the same time, having to resist doing more.   
Arthur throws himself face down on the bed, trying to calm his breathing and get his blood flow back where it belongs. He needs to get a grip on himself, or he’ll lose Merlin's trust completely. Arthur couldn’t very well leave him in pain, though…  
Morgana was passing Arthur's chambers on the way to her own, and saw enough of the scene to make up her mind about something. She calls Gwen, already planning ahead…  
“Yes, my lady?”  
“Gwen, you know it’s my birthday coming up in three weeks.”  
“Yes, of course. You still haven’t told Arthur what you want to do.”  
“Well, I’ve decided,” Morgana says firmly. “I want to hold a ball, but a very special ball. I will have total control over the dances – more specifically, the dance partners.”  
Gwen's face twists in confusion. “Why?”  
“Arthur and Merlin,” Morgana says, rolling her eyes. “They’ve been in love for years, and I keep being patient, waiting for them to work it out on their own, but I’ve had enough. They need to have their eyes opened.”  
By the way Gwen is looking at her, Morgana knows her maid suspected the same thing, even if she didn’t know for sure.  
“It’s getting more obvious by the day,” Morgana complains, “but they still can’t see it! I honestly don’t know how they cope – the feelings are all there, the fools just haven’t identified them for what they are. How they manage to live their lives when they’re probably in a constant state of confusion…”  
“So what are you going to do?”  
Morgana leans closer to Gwen, smiling conspiratorially. “I have a plan…”

Three weeks later  
Arthur is nervous when he gets up and downs two glasses of wine before Merlin even brings him breakfast. When he does, Merlin sits down opposite Arthur and watches him. Arthur eats quietly.   
“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Merlin says eventually.  
“You don’t know my sister,” Arthur says grimly. “She’s evil. It won’t matter that I’m the king of Camelot, she’ll make me dance with whoever she thinks will make me feel the most uncomfortable, you’ll see.”  
Merlin stifles a chuckle.   
“Don’t think you’re getting off!” Arthur barks, his nerves making his temper shorter than usual. “She won’t go easy on you either, you mark my words.”  
Merlin's laugh cuts off rather suddenly. “I won’t be dancing. I’ll be making sure your cup doesn’t run dry.” It sounded like a question rather than a statement.  
“If I have to dance, you have to dance,” Arthur says with grim satisfaction at the look of horror on Merlin's face.   
“Great, now we’re both dreading it,” Merlin grouches.   
A couple of hours later, the participants for the ball are all lined up, awaiting their fates. When Morgana starts rattling off partners, Arthur begins to relax a bit. She doesn’t seem to be trying to make anyone feel uncomfortable – she pairs Gwen with Lancelot, making their evening. Everyone else also looks rather happy with their lot.  
When she says Arthur's name, he stiffens in anticipation. “Arthur and Merlin,” she says, not pausing as she continues down whatever evil list she is working from.  
Arthur is frozen for only a moment before storming quietly over to her and standing beside her until she finishes with the list.   
“Morgana,” he growls, “I’m not – ”  
“My rules, Arthur, you agreed to it,” she says airily. “Unless you’re telling me the king of Camelot intends to break his word?” She smiles sweetly at him.  
“I hate you.”  
“You’ll thank me for this one day, Arthur.”  
“Don’t hold your breath,” he spits as he strides back to Merlin. Merlin is watching him nervously, looking like he’s about to bolt.  
Arthur grimaces as the music starts and takes Merlin's hand. “Arthur, I don’t really know how to dance,” Merlin mutters in panic.  
The fact that Merlin is more scared than he is makes Arthur feel slightly better. “It’s ok,” he says. “You just need to follow my lead. Nothing more than that.”  
To both of their intense surprise, this turns out to be true. Arthur leads Merlin through a series of dances without either of them tripping or bursting out laughing. Even more surprising, after the initial awkwardness wears off, it’s actually rather pleasant. True, Arthur has to be careful to keep his body a safe distance away from Merlin's, but so long as he keeps his head, it’s really quite nice.  
Merlin, of course, has no sense of personal space. As the music slows, he rests his head on Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur can’t help but bring his arms up, holding Merlin closer.   
“This is nice,” Merlin says sleepily, hours later. They’ve both had some wine and food from the trays that servants are carrying between the dancers, and the alcohol has loosened them even further.   
“Mmhm,” Arthur says, his eyes drooping. The heat between their bodies is intense, but after dancing for hours, exhaustion helps Arthur keep himself in check. If he can forget his totally inappropriate desire for Merlin, he finds it relaxing to be close to his friend this way, where they have nothing to do except move slowly on the spot.  
Finally, Morgana calls a halt to the celebrations. Many people express the wish that they could have gone on longer, but Arthur and Merlin are both exhausted. Merlin starts following Arthur to his chambers, intending to undress him for bed. Arthur, however, knows how close on the edge of temptation he is and sends Merlin straight to bed.  
Merlin looks slightly hurt, but Arthur knows that if he is in his servant’s company for much longer he’s going to totally ruin their friendship by doing something stupid like kissing Merlin. He wants him so badly it hurts.  
Merlin goes alone to his room, feeling oddly empty. It was a nice night. Resisting the urge to lean into Arthur and touch him in wildly inappropriate places was really hard, but it was nice to be with Arthur when his guard was down like that. He seemed so relaxed.   
Merlin falls into bed and is asleep almost at once.  
The dream comes, as always. He dreams that he is in a cave made only of glass. Sunlight streams in through the walls. Next to him, Arthur is banging his fists against a wall, in his own identical cave. Merlin tries to talk to him, but no sound gets through. He can see Arthur's lips moving as he too tries to communicate.   
Merlin tries to use his magic, but it doesn’t seem to work in the glass cave. Then something happens that almost makes his heart stop. Arthur's cave is filling up with some sort of green gas. Arthur starts to cough and choke.   
“Arthur! ARTHUR!” Merlin throws himself against the wall, desperate to get to his king, to save him, but Arthur is on the ground now, twitching as his breath leaves him…  
“Merlin!” Arthur jerks up as he wakes from the dream, the last image still burning in his mind: Merlin in the glass cave, suffocated by green gas, twitching as his life drained from him, Arthur unable to save him…”  
“Just a dream, just a dream,” he mutters to himself, trying to calm his frantic breathing. His whole body is covered in cold sweat. He rolls over, trying to get back to sleep. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, he’s been having this dream for months…

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

“It didn’t work,” Morgana grumbles.  
“Oh well, you tried your best,” Gwen says consolingly. Morgana doesn’t answer. Gwen sighs. “You haven’t given up, have you?”  
“Not even close,” Morgana says, a sly smile lighting her face. “Those boys won’t know what hit them…”  
Two hours later, an extremely uncomfortable Gwen has caved in to pressure and is talking to Lancelot about Morgana's plan. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear that Merlin and Arthur are in love – really, are they the only two who don’t know? – and agrees to persuade the other knights to help…

“Merlin, have you polished my armour?”  
“Almost,” Merlin says guiltily.   
Arthur rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. He glances over at Merlin, who is frantically scrubbing at his chainmail. Really, why the idiot couldn’t have started sooner?  
Merlin hisses as his finger gets scraped against the hard metal.   
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks at once, crouching down.  
“Nothing, just a bit of skin,” he says, examining his finger.  
“Really, Merlin, how can you not even know how to polish chainmail?” Arthur asks, taking it out of Merlin's hands.  
“I’m not done yet.”  
“Leave it, Merlin. You’ve already injured yourself once, I don’t want you getting hurt again.”  
Arthur bites his lip as the kind words slip out. He glances at Merlin, who looks surprised, but smiles happily. Arthur really doesn’t know where the strange urge to be kind to Merlin comes from, and he quickly leaves before he snaps something he doesn’t mean in his confusion.   
Merlin follows, babbling cheerfully about nothing and dressing Arthur in his armour as usual. Arthur endures his servant’s hands on him and manages to resist the temptation to grab those hands and start kissing them. Finally, he grabs his sword and strides out, eager to get to training.  
The knights take turns being beaten up by Arthur, as usual. While waiting his turn, Gwaine comes over to talk to Merlin.   
“So, Merlin, do you want to come to the tavern with me later?” he asks.  
“No, Gwaine, not again,” Merlin groans. “I was sick for two days after the last time!”  
“Come on, Merlin, don’t be a spoil sport!”  
Merlin just shakes his head, leaving Gwaine to ponder how else to fulfil Lancelot's instructions. Finally, deciding that subtlety clearly isn’t working, he waits until he’s sure Arthur is looking his way before advancing on Merlin.   
“What are you doing?” Merlin asks, backing away at the look in Gwaine's eyes.   
Gwaine ignores him but presses Merlin up against an empty barrel, their faces very close. “What does it look like I’m doing, Merlin?” he murmurs. He brings his lips up to Merlin's, and the servant twists away, tripping over a pile of swords. Gwaine turns towards him in concern, but the next moment, he collapses.  
Arthur runs towards them, having just thrown a shield at Gwaine's back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!” he yells. “Get away from him!” He leans down and gives a shaking Merlin a hand up. “Are you ok?” he demands.  
“Fine,” Merlin mutters. “Leave it, Arthur, it wasn’t his fault – I just tripped over the swords, clumsy as usual…”  
Arthur, however, isn’t listening to him. He is glaring daggers at Gwaine. The knight looks appropriately abashed as he gets up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for him to fall…”  
“If I catch you so much as looking at him again, you’ll spend the night in the dungeons, is that clear?” Arthur barks. “All of you!” He glares threateningly at the other knights.   
Then he grabs Merlin's arm and stalks away while the knights exchange knowing looks behind his back.  
“We should have Gaius look at you,” Arthur says. “You could have hit your head…”  
“I’m fine, Arthur, it’s just a misunderstanding…”  
“If anyone ever touches you against you will again, you are to come straight to me, do you understand?” Arthur growls.   
“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin says weakly. In truth, while he didn’t think Gwaine deserved to have such a heavy shield thrown at him, he’s glad Arthur got him out of that situation. His concern is really quite touching… Merlin just hopes he doesn’t murder Gwaine.  
Arthur does insist that Merlin go to Gaius, even giving him the rest of the day off. A couple of hours later, Gwaine limps in, muttering a string of curses, and Merlin thinks he catches Morgana's name.   
“Took a hit during training,” he explains to Gaius. “Ar – someone’s shield came off their arm while they were fighting. It hit me in the back.”  
“Lie down,” Gaius says, and Gwaine complies, wincing. Gaius diagnosis him with a broken rib and tells him he’s to do no more training until it’s healed.   
“I’m sorry,” Merlin says. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”  
“It’s not your fault, Merlin,” Gwaine says, clapping him on the back. 

Merlin is going to fetch water from the lower town when the incident happens. A woman staggers up to the castle gates, a bottle in one hand, yelling at the top of her voice.   
“I want to see the king, bring me to him, he needs to answer for what he’s done!”  
The guards start to usher her away as she yells abuse at them, but as bad luck would have it, Arthur happens to be passing by.   
“You’re a murderer!” she screeches. “You prey on the young and foolish and send them in for slaughter! Murderer!”  
Merlin expects Arthur to brush it off as the woman is dragged away, but to his surprise, Arthur's face goes all pale and he hangs his head.   
“Who is that woman?” Merlin asks the guard.   
“She’s the mother of one of Arthur's men. He was killed in battle – as you can see, she’s not coping well.”  
Merlin doesn’t wait for the man to continue, but hurries after Arthur. Arthur must have heard him following, but ignores him, slamming the door to his chambers. Of course, Merlin follows him inside.   
“Go away, Merlin,” Arthur says wearily.  
“Arthur, it wasn’t your fault,” Merlin says sharply.  
“You don’t even know what happened.”  
“I know you blame yourself for everything, even when you had nothing to do with it.”  
“Well, I had something to do with it this time.”  
Merlin cautiously approaches, putting a tentative hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t shrug him off, either.  
“Tell me what happened, then.”  
Arthur shakes his head, but Merlin just waits. Finally, Arthur begins to talk. “Benjamin was new to the guard – young, enthusiastic and inexperienced. We were going into hostile territory. I was planning only to take experienced men, but he begged to come. I knew I shouldn’t allow it, but I did. He was killed by bandits. I tried to protect him, but it happened too fast… His mother is right – I did kill him.”  
“No, Arthur,” Merlin says firmly. “You tried your best. It’s not your fault.”  
“Tell that to his mother. Her son is still dead.”  
Arthur sounds so sad and broken, Merlin's own heart is breaking for him. He knows Arthur feels responsible for everything that happens to his men, and Merlin doesn’t know how to explain to him that each and every one of them choose to serve him, that they all make their own choices, for which Arthur can’t be held responsible.  
Merlin slowly puts his arms around Arthur, hugging him from behind. He half expects Arthur to shove him off, but the king only closes his eyes, standing perfectly still. They stand like that for a long time before Arthur finally steps out of the embrace.   
“You can leave, Merlin.”  
“No way, I’m not leaving you like this.”  
“Just go,” Arthur says wearily. Merlin doesn’t move. “Go!” Arthur yells, getting angry now. Merlin takes two deliberate steps to the table and sits down. Arthur glares at him and grabs a boot from the floor, throwing it at Merlin.   
Merlin ducks and the boot sails over his head.   
“Leave me alone!” Arthur yells, pushing Merlin, hard. The chair falls over and Merlin crashes to the floor. He simply gets up, rights the chair, and sits down again. “I’m not leaving you alone so that you can beat yourself up about something that wasn’t your fault,” he says calmly.  
Arthur growls inarticulately and throws himself onto the bed, his face smashed into the pillows. Merlin can see his body shaking slightly.   
After a few minutes, Merlin tentatively gets up and sits on the side of the bed. Arthur doesn’t move when Merlin puts a hand on his arm. Acting on instinct, Merlin lies down next to Arthur, tugging him so that he is on his side. Arthur's back presses up against Merlin's chest as Merlin holds him while he cries.   
“It’s not your fault,” he says, over and over again, stroking Arthur's hair. By the desperate way Arthur presses up against him, Merlin realises he’s never had anyone to hold him when he cries, always expected to be strong, to show no emotion. Merlin just holds him tighter, his heart going out to the king. Arthur finally quiets and drifts into an uneasy sleep. Merlin gets up quietly to fetch the king’s supper.   
They don’t make any mention of the incident all evening, slipping easily back into their normal friendly banter. It’s not until Arthur's in bed for the night and Merlin has just blown out the candles when Arthur says quietly, “Merlin? Thank you.”  
“Anytime, Arthur,” he says, slipping out of the door.

It is a couple of days later that Morgana announces that she wishes to go on a week-long hunt. Arthur obliges her, knowing it’s easier than fighting – she’ll get her way in the end, regardless. Besides, a nice long hunt seems like a good thing to him as well. Merlin grimaces, but packs their things in silence.  
It is only after a day of riding that Morgana announces that she’s forgotten her tent. “You can have mine,” Arthur suggests chivalrously, as she knew he would.  
“But Arthur, you can’t sleep outside, you’ll freeze,” she protests.   
“I’ll be fine.”  
“No, Arthur, I wouldn’t hear of it… unless Merlin is willing to share his tent with you?”  
“Um, yes, of course,” Merlin says.   
“Perfect, it’s settled then,” Morgana says brightly. Arthur shoots her a glare before turning apprehensively towards Merlin. A whole night in one rather small tent with him? He seriously considers asking one of his men to tie his hands to the tent pole – it seems the only way he’ll be able to keep them to himself – but realises that Merlin can hardly fail to notice that.  
So it is with an air of sacrifice that he crawls into Merlin's tent that night. Merlin can’t help being excited. Of course, he knows nothing can happen, and he knows how hard it will be to resist touching Arthur all night in such close proximity, but still, any excuse to be close to him is fine by Merlin.  
Merlin silently hands Arthur his bedroll, as Morgana is using Arthur's, having conveniently forgotten to pack that, too.  
“What will you sleep under?” Arthur asks.  
“I’ll be fine, it’s not that cold.”  
“No way, Merlin. Take the bedroll.”  
To Arthur's surprise, Merlin doesn’t argue, but takes it without complaint. It is only later that night when Arthur jerks awake from his usual nightmare that he realises he’s feeling way too warm. Sure enough, Merlin's bedroll is spread over him, Merlin shivering over on the other side of the tent.   
Arthur gets up to go spread the thing back over his stubborn servant when he sees Merlin is twitching and jerking, his face screwed up as though he’s having a bad dream. Before he knows what he’s doing, Arthur is wrapping his arms around Merlin's cold body, spreading the bedroll over both of them. Merlin calms slightly under his touch and is soon sleeping deeply.  
Arthur wakes up first and makes sure to move away from Merlin before his body can overcome his mind. When Merlin wakes, he scowls at the bedroll draped over him, but makes no further comment. He looks so cute when he scowls. Arthur grabs the tent pole, trying to exercise some physical restraint, for every pore of his body is reaching towards Merlin, wanting to kiss the scowl right off his face.   
“Good morning, you clotpole,” Merlin says. “I hope you were warm enough last night.”  
“I told you, I don’t want you to freeze,” Arthur says, blushing. He hopes Merlin doesn’t remember exactly what happened with their sleeping arrangements last night. Merlin doesn’t seem to be listening. He is staring at Arthur, who touches his face self-consciously. Has he got food in his hair or something?  
Merlin is walking closer, his face oddly flushed. He is standing very close to Arthur, their faces less than a foot apart. Arthur's own breathing is ragged and Merlin starts to lean in. Arthur's mind is screaming at him to stop, but his body has disconnected as it leans forward, too.  
“Arthur, we should get going!” Percival says brightly, pulling the tent flap open.  
Both Merlin and Arthur jump away from each other, embarrassed. Thankfully, Percival doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. Arthur quickly goes out of the tent where there are plenty of witnesses.   
Merlin sighs, knowing that he’d better get a grip on himself. It’s all very well to fantasize about Arthur, but Arthur would probably fire him if Merlin tried to do anything more, and then how would Merlin protect him?   
Arthur's already aware of Merlin's unfortunate infatuation, Merlin is sure of it. Merlin had better not do anything that will make Arthur decide the situation is too difficult for Merlin to continue being his servant…  
Arthur, meanwhile, quickly loses himself among the other knights. You fool, Arthur, he berates himself. You need to keep better control of yourself – you’re not Gwaine, don’t you dare touch Merlin, he’ll never trust you again.  
Merlin follows him out of the tent, looking completely adorable.  
Arthur rolls his eyes. This is going to be a long trip.

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur goes down to breakfast with Morgana, not wanting to be alone with Merlin in his chambers. Ever since they got back from the hunt where Merlin and Arthur were forced to share a tent, Arthur has found it even harder to keep his hands off his servant.   
Nothing happened on the hunt, but it was a close thing. Having to share a tent for a week tested Arthur's will to the limits. He won’t jeopardise his friendship with Merlin for anything, though, so he gritted his teeth and kept his desires to himself.  
Morgana is smiling that evil smile of hers, the one Arthur immediately distrusts. “What?” he says guardedly.   
“Nothing,” she says, still smiling.   
Arthur snorts disbelievingly and takes a big gulp of wine. He’s beginning to think Morgana intentionally tortures him…  
Arthur would have quite liked to go straight to training, but Merlin has his armour up in his chambers. Besides, the sight of his servant will lift his mood, even if it does come with the effort of resisting extreme temptation.   
As Arthur steps inside his chambers, a gust of wind blows the door shut. He jumps and laughs nervously before going to Merlin to get his armour put on.   
“Go and get me… some fruit,” he says to Merlin.  
“You just had breakfast, you prat.”  
“Just go, Merlin,” Arthur says, trying to get Merlin out so that he can at least get partially dressed before exposing himself to Merlin's smooth, pale hands.  
Merlin shoots him an exasperated look before going to the door and tugging on it. The door rattles, but doesn’t open.  
“Arthur, did you lock this door?”  
“No, just pull it, weakling.”  
Merlin tugs hard, but the stubborn door won’t open. Rolling his eyes, he checks that Arthur isn’t looking, then whispers an incantation under his breath. He feels the magic leave him and direct itself at the door. The door bucks violently, but stays firmly shut.  
“Um, Arthur… I think we have a problem.”  
Three hours later, neither of them has been able to budge the door an inch. Not only that, but the window also seems to have magically glued itself shut, and no one can hear them shouting, nor does anyone seem to be looking up at them.  
Merlin doesn’t understand. All of his attempts to break them free with magic have been felt, but none of them have succeeded. Who has magic more powerful than his?  
As though in answer, there is a chuckle in his head. Kilgharrah! Merlin's accusing mental shout falls on indifferent ears. What do you think you’re doing?  
Really, Merlin, would you like to get on the lady Morgana's bad side? the dragon asks, not sounding in the least bit contrite.  
This is her idea? Why!  
You’ll see soon enough.  
Merlin didn’t even know Morgana knew about Kilgharrah, but that’s the least of his worries at the moment. “Stupid scheming dragon!” he bursts out, before clapping his hands over his mouth.   
“What?” Arthur asks sharply.   
“Nothing,” Merlin says. “I was just – daydreaming – imagining a dragon locking us up here and…”  
He trails off pathetically. Arthur looks suspicious, but is more interested in getting to training than paying much attention to Merlin. Merlin makes a mental note to think up a proper excuse for his outburst to give to Arthur when his attention isn’t so conveniently diverted.  
After another three hours, it doesn’t seem like they’re going to make training that day. Worse, there is no food or water in the room and they are both getting hungry and thirsty. Merlin is starting to get worried. How far will the dragon take this? Surely not long enough that they get really sick?  
Kilgharrah, as a dragon lord, I order you to release us!  
Sorry, Merlin, he says, seeming to be fighting the desire to laugh. I didn’t do this – I merely added my power to Morgana's. I’ll need to add my power again to undo it, but she must be the one to do the spell. Only the one who initiated it can end it…  
Merlin is left, fuming. Whatever twisted scheme Morgana has, he knows there’ll be no way of persuading her out of it. He and Arthur will just have to wait until she grows bored… but she probably doesn’t realise that they are stuck in here with no water…  
Two hours later, they are both very thirsty. Arthur has a pounding headache – he doesn’t say anything, but Merlin can tell. He’s been debating with himself for hours, but he sees no way around it. He’d have to tell Arthur eventually, and he can’t stand seeing Arthur in any kind of pain or discomfort. Why not let it be now?  
Demonstration first, he decides. Muttering a quick spell, he grabs the now full jug of ice cold water and pours out a glass for Arthur.  
“Where did this come from?” the king asks incredulously.   
“Um…” Merlin's nerve deserts him. He can’t say it, he just can’t.  
“Hang on… you don’t have magic, do you?”  
Merlin's mouth pops open as he gapes. A similar look of shock comes to Arthur's face.   
“That’s your secret? I knew it was something, but Morgana refused to tell me what. Really, Merlin? It’s magic?”  
Merlin is too stunned to speak. Arthur looks annoyed, but not murderously enraged or betrayed. He manages to nod mutely.   
“I never would have guessed,” Arthur muses. He shoots a sharp glance at Merlin. “Is this about the ban?”  
“W – what?”  
“Is the ban on magic why you haven’t told me before now?” Arthur asks, becoming increasingly annoyed. “Really, you know I don’t view magic in the same way as my father. I couldn’t very well just lift the ban as soon as he died, though – I had to wait at least a couple of years out of respect to his legacy. Now, I want you to tell me exactly why you didn’t trust me.”  
He glares at Merlin, looking quite angry now. “Well? You didn’t honestly think I’d have you executed, did you?”  
Merlin finally finds his voice. “Let me get this straight. You’re not mad because I have magic, you’re mad that I lied to you?”  
“Of course I’m mad you lied to me, Merlin! We’re supposed to be friends, how would you feel if you found I’ve been lying to you ever since we met?”  
Relief sweeps through Merlin, making him light-headed. The giddy feeling overwhelms him and he acts without thinking, throwing himself at Arthur. Their lips meet with a helpless moan as Arthur's arms come around the servant, holding him tightly to his chest.   
Merlin's brain is still catching up with his body; Arthur isn’t rejecting him? Arthur wants him? His body has other ideas, leaving his confused thoughts far behind.  
Their bodies press together and their hands run over each other, greedily seeking skin. Arthur lifts Merlin's shirt, his hands slipping underneath while his insides do the happy dance. Merlin kissed him. He’s not forcing himself on him, Merlin wants this, too.  
Their mouths duel fiercely and Arthur groans, trying to pull Merlin closer. He moves his mouth, kissing his way along Merlin's cheekbone until he gets to one of those ridiculously large ears. His tongue flicks inside and Merlin shivers. Arthur pushes him up against the wall, his needy hands consuming his servant.  
Merlin breaks away from the kiss as his hands reach into Arthur's breeches. Arthur's legs nearly collapse and he grabs onto Merlin. The next thing he knows, Merlin's eyes have glowed gold and they two of them are on the bed, minus their clothes.  
Arthur feels himself get – if possible – even harder. “Was that magic?” he whispers.  
Merlin nods slyly. “Want some more?”  
Arthur nods hesitantly, but soon forgets as waves of pleasure are sweeping through him. Merlin's hands seem to reach deep into his body, touching his very bones, the magic singing thorough his fingers. Arthur writhes beneath him. He’s never felt so helpless… and he’s never cared less.  
Merlin lowers his body so that he is resting lightly on top of Arthur and their erections rub together, eliciting sharp gasps from both men. Arthur grabs Merlin's bottom, pulling him harder against him, trying to smother the desperate sounds that are coming out of his mouth. “Please,” Arthur gasps, and Merlin obliges, moving his mouth to one of Arthur's nipples.  
As Arthur arches up under the touch, Merlin's hands are going down, stroking his erection, smearing the precome over the sensitive head. Arthur bucks upwards, growling inarticulately at Merlin has he moves his hands away. When Merlin's hands are back, though, Arthur's thoughts scatter in a million different directions.  
He doesn’t know where Merlin got the oil from, but suddenly the sorcerer’s hands are covered in it and he is edging one finger slowly into Arthur's tight passage. Arthur's hands twist in the raven hair as he pushes into the touch. “More,” he gasps. Merlin wiggles his finger teasingly, causing Arthur to groan in frustration.  
“Say please,” Merlin whispers.  
“Please,” Arthur begs, too desperate to care about anything else but Merlin's finger. Merlin adds another finger and Arthur pushes against it, trying to wriggle his body further down, but Merlin holds him still, adding another finger and working Arthur mercilessly.   
Arthur's whole body is quivering. “Now, please do it now, Merlin,” he says hoarsely.  
“Be patient.” There is a laugh in Merlin's voice, but Arthur's need is so great he is almost crying with desperation. “Please Merlin, I need you now!”  
Merlin kisses his mouth gently and without another word of protest, positions himself above Arthur. Arthur presses forward so that the tip of Merlin's erection is pressing against his hole. Though he seems intent on teasing Arthur until he dies of frustration, Merlin's own need betrays him as he enters Arthur's passage with a groan.  
Merlin starts off slowly, but Arthur is whimpering impatiently as both men strain for release. Arthur grabs his servant’s mouth in a hungry kiss, one hand in his hair, the other fingering a small, tight nipple. Merlin groans and goes faster.   
Feeling himself getting close, Arthur leaves Merlin's nipples and reaches for his own erection, but Merlin bats his hand away, replacing it with his own. His long fingers are pale and oh so delicious. Arthur's scream is lost in Merlin's mouth as Merlin finds his spot and Arthur grabs his bottom, positioning it so that he hits the spot again and again, sending waves of ecstasy through Arthur's body.  
“Oh, Gods – Arthur!” Merlin comes, his hands clutching Arthur's broad shoulders, and Arthur is only a second behind. He arches up as Merlin keeps pumping for a moment before collapsing heavily on top of him.  
Arthur lies on his back, dizzy from the power of the orgasm. Merlin gets his breath back before pulling out to lie beside his king. The two of them don’t speak for a while. Then –   
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Merlin asks.  
“Me? Why didn’t you say anything? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”  
“Then why didn’t you?”  
Arthur hesitates. “You know you’re more than a servant to me, Merlin – you’re my friend… probably the best friend I have.” He carefully doesn’t meet Merlin's eyes as he continues to talk. “I thought if I made advances, it would ruin that.”  
“Well, I made the advances, so nothing is ruined, then,” Merlin says, running a hand over Arthur's sweaty chest. “Still friends?”  
“Still friends,” Arthur confirms.   
“And we’ll do this again another day?”  
“Another day?” Arthur pretends to pout. “You want to wait so long?”  
Merlin laughs and kisses him. “Maybe not.”  
“Don’t think this will get you out of your duties, now,” Arthur says sternly. “I still want my chainmail sparkling, no excuses, Merlin…”  
Merlin laughs before flipping out of bed. “I’ll get right on that, Sir Prat.”  
They have managed to distract themselves so thoroughly that both had forgotten they were locked in. Merlin pushes at the door and it opens easily. It is only when he’s half way down the passage that he pauses, realising that they’ve been released. Was that what Morgana wanted all along? Well, he’s not complaining…  
Still, as wonderful as it is to have his lust sated, to know that Arthur wants him too, that this isn’t just a one-time thing, some part of him feels empty. Why he should feel that, he doesn’t know. What could be more perfect?   
He and Arthur have finally found out that their attractions are mutual and are free to enjoy each other whenever they want. It will be no small relief to undress Arthur without having to fight the urge to tear his clothes off and kiss every inch of him. It didn’t feel weird at all. They’re still friends, he still has his job… what could be better?  
Then why is he feeling desolate?  
Arthur isn’t feeling much better. The post-orgasmic haze is wearing off and he’s thinking about Merlin. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a better scenario. He believes Merlin when he says he wants Arthur, too, and it felt great afterwards.   
He wonders why he’s feeling so depressed now. The experience was perfect – satisfying for both of them. He has the object of his desire in his grasp, and he still has his servant and friend.   
What else could he possibly want?

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Morgana greets Arthur with a huge smile as he comes down for breakfast. Her expression falters when he doesn’t return it. It’s not anything to do with her, just that Arthur didn’t sleep well. His usual dream of watching Merlin die in a glass cave changed last night. This time, he was inside the bubble with Merlin, but still could do nothing to save him from the noxious gas that didn’t seem to affect Arthur at all.   
“Did you and Merlin have a fight?” Morgana asks hesitantly.  
“Why would you think that?”  
“Well, you have an expression like a kicked puppy…”  
“No, we didn’t have a fight,” Arthur says wearily. Merlin told him all about Morgana's involvement in yesterday’s… events… and he tries to muster up some indignation, but really, he’s too tired. Maybe he’ll drag Merlin to his chambers later and they can have a repeat of yesterday. The thought cheers him up slightly.  
“Come on, Arthur, what’s the matter?” she insists. “Aren’t you supposed to be over the moon? The joy of new love and all that?”  
“W – what?” Arthur splutters over his food.   
“Well, I guess it’s not really new, you and Merlin have known each other for years now, but still – ”  
“Hang on, go back to the last bit. Love? Who are you kidding?” Arthur asks weakly.  
“Oh come on, Arthur, you know everything, now,” she says impatiently. “I know Merlin told you about my involvement. I know very well what happened between the two of you yesterday.”  
“We had sex,” Arthur says, completely nonplussed. “But that’s not what I’m talking about – why did you think I was in love?”  
Morgana scrutinises him as though mentally checking his sanity. “Are you telling me you don’t care about Merlin?”  
“Of course I care about him, Morgana, he’s my friend, you know that! But why on earth would you think we’re in love?” Something twists in Arthur's stomach twists painfully at these words. He eyes his meat, wondering if the kitchens would be so negligent to serve off meat to their king.   
Morgana splutters, rolls her eyes, and flounces away, muttering under her breath.  
Much to his great misfortune, Merlin happens along Morgana as she leaves. He gives her his usual smile and greeting, already having forgiven yesterday – after all, it was hardly like he had a bad day. Morgana glares at him and he backs up a step.   
“What’s happening with you and Arthur?” she demands.   
“N – nothing,” Merlin stammers, shocked by her inexplicable anger.   
“So your feelings for him are no different than they were yesterday?”  
Merlin tries to think what she’s getting at. “Um… no. I mean, I’m sure you know what happened.” He blushes. “It was great, if you must know, but Arthur and I are fine, we didn’t have a row or anything, we’re still friends.” Merlin frowns, wondering where the sudden pain coming from his chest comes from. Rubbing anxiously over his heart, he eyes Morgana wearily, but she is already gone.   
Two minutes later, she is storming into her chambers in a foul temper. “Those two are so blind it’s a wonder they don’t walk around bouncing off the walls,” she say angrily to a shocked Gwen.  
“But I thought the plan worked,” she says timidly, trying to pacify Morgana.  
“I thought it did. I assumed when they finally slept together they’d realise their feelings, but so far the only feeling they’re realising is desire – the idiots have no more idea they’re in love than they did yesterday. We have work to do, Gwen…”

***

Arthur quickly finds Merlin and drags him to his bed. If anything, it is even better than yesterday, leaving both men panting for breath. Afterwards, Merlin kisses Arthur on the cheek, smiles, and continues with his duties.   
As wonderful as it was, Arthur finds his mood rapidly spiralling afterwards and he throws himself into training, trying to distract himself.  
“What’s wrong, Merlin?” Lancelot asks, coming to sit down beside Merlin before he’s beaten to a pulp by Arthur, who seems in a foul mood. Merlin shrugs. As if the stupid dream wasn’t enough – the new version even more disturbing than the old one – he’s now feeling miserable for no reason whatsoever. It’s no wonder Arthur's calling him an idiot, he can’t even work out his own mind. 

***

When Morgana suggests a few days later that Arthur ride out to visit the outlying villages and see that everything’s going well there, he eagerly agrees, hoping that being among his people will cheer him up. He really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him – the only time he’s cheerful nowadays is when he’s in bed with Merlin, but as soon as they part, he slips back into melancholy. He feels as though there’s something obvious he’s missing, but he can’t quite reach it.  
Arthur and Merlin pack up and prepare to take a couple of the knights, but Morgana persuades him that it will do the people good to see their king alone, strong and independent. Some nice alone time to talk about their feelings is exactly what Merlin and Arthur need, she decides.   
Not in the mood to argue with her, Arthur sets out with just Merlin. Ok, so it may have taken a lot longer than it would have if there were others with them – others whose presence would stop Arthur from pinning Merlin to almost every passing tree and ravishing him. Still, they aren’t in a hurry, and enjoy the alone time.   
The tour of the outlying villages goes well – the people seem happy to see their king taking an interest in their lives. It’s only on the way back to Camelot that they see something unusual.  
Merlin and Arthur have barely entered the village when a woman comes running to meet them. “Please, sire, thank goodness you came!” she gasps. “There is a sickness among our people, we don’t know what to do…”  
She looks as though she hasn’t slept in days and her eyes have a wild, crazed look about them.   
“Lead the way,” Arthur says.   
The villagers have been brought to the town hall and laid on makeshift pallets so that they can all be cared for together. Over half of the village is affected – they lie unconscious, shifting and moaning as though they are in great pain.   
“Do you have a physician?” Merlin asks the distraught woman. She points at one of the unconscious bodies.   
“Arthur,” Merlin says quietly. “I could help…?”  
Arthur hesitates, but really it’s been four years since his father died, that’s time enough to let pass before he gets rid of this ridiculous ban on magic. “Yes, do whatever you can,” he says to Merlin, making plans to announce the changing of the law when they get back to Camelot.  
Merlin goes to the physician first and puts his hand over the man’s forehead, closing his eyes. Arthur watches him anxiously. Merlin twitches and his hand almost jerks away, but he manages to stay put. Arthur can see the glow of his eyes beneath his eyelids as he whispers a spell. For a few minutes, nothing seems to happen… but then the physician’s eyes open.  
“Good work, Merlin,” Arthur says, clapping him on the back. Merlin has a strange expression on his face, but when Arthur looks again, he’s sure he’s imagined it, as Merlin is grinning and moving over to the next bed.  
Arthur is pleased by the day’s work when they pack up to leave. After all, what better way to convince people that magic isn’t really evil – as Uther had insisted for over twenty years – than using it to save lives?   
“Make sure to tie the blankets up tightly this time, Merlin,” Arthur says. “The next one that falls in the river will be the one you sleep under.”  
He expects a snarky comment in return and when he doesn’t get one, Arthur turns around.   
His heart leaps in his throat. Merlin's body is lying prone on the floor, his skin even paler than usual.   
“Merlin!” he rushes to his servant and kneels down, checking Merlin's pulse. It’s there, but it’s weak. His breathing is short and ragged.   
“Help!” Arthur yells towards the door, not getting up from his knees. “Somebody help me!”  
People come running and gasp when they see Merlin. They try to carry him to the town hall, but Arthur refuses to let anyone touch him, insisting on carrying Merlin himself. He gently lays the sorcerer down on an empty pallet and drags the still-pale physician over to see him.   
The man examines Merlin with sad eyes. “It is the same, sire,” he says. “The same disease that struck us all down. I would guess that your sorcerer took it into yourself to heal us.”  
“Well, do something!” Arthur yells. “Save him!”  
The physician is already shaking his head. “Only his magic can save him now. Either he will defeat the disease, or…” he trails off, not meeting Arthur's eyes.   
“No, I don’t accept that, there must be something you can do!” Arthur says, his voice higher than usual. “He can’t die, do you understand?”  
“I’m sorry, sire. I wish there was something I could do.”  
The man lays a compassionate hand on Arthur's shoulder before going off to tend to the other recovering patients.   
Arthur clutches Merlin's hand, staring at his pale face. “You idiot, Merlin,” he mutters. “If you knew what you were doing when you took the illness into you, I’ll kill you myself. You have to fight it, do you understand? You have to live. Please, Merlin.”  
His voice breaks on the last two words and Arthur hastily wipes his eyes, aware of the villagers watching him.   
Merlin gets worse. Arthur can tell that he’s in pain, but none of the herbs that the physician gives him seem to do any good. Some of the women try to persuade Arthur to eat or sleep, but he brushes them off. How can he sleep when any breath could be Merlin's last?  
Arthur can’t stand this. Even when his father died, as much as he hurt, it was nothing compared to this. He clutches his head in his hands, desperately trying to escape. Merlin can’t die, he just can’t. Arthur can’t even imagine a world without him in it…  
He feels a hand on his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye recognises the woman who first brought them there. “I’m sorry, sire,” she says gently. “I’m sure he was a good servant.”  
“HE’S NOT JUST A SERVANT!” Arthur yells, near breaking point. “HE’S EVERYTHING TO ME! I LOVE HIM!”  
Silence follows.  
Arthur hadn’t intended to say the words – hadn’t even known they were true – but as soon as they are out of his mouth, he knows that he’s never spoken anything truer. He loves Merlin. All of the confusion that has been spinning in his head for months seems to fade away, leaving only the stark truth. He is in love with Merlin.  
And Merlin is dying.  
Arthur completely breaks down, sobbing over Merlin's chest, clinging to the frail body while it still lives, trying not to think. Trying not to imagine a world without Merlin in it. Trying not to imagine waking up every day and knowing that he is gone, forever.  
“Please, Merlin,” he begs, his lips just inches away from one of those protruding ears. “Please, you have to live, for me. I can’t go on without you. I love you. Merlin, I’m begging you…”  
The exhaustion and stress of the day finally overcome him and his eyes start to droop as his body relaxes, still sprawled over Merlin's. If Arthur hadn’t been so lost in his own world of despair, he would have noticed that at his words, Merlin's heart rate picked up and his breathing became just a bit easier. Arthur, though, is too far gone for any of that and is soon dead to the world.  
He wakes incredibly stiff, still sleeping over Merlin, leaning awkwardly onto him from the chair he is seated at.   
“Arthur. Arthur, wake up.”  
The voice is rough and hoarse, but it has Arthur jerking up at once, his eyes alight with hope.  
“Merlin?” he whispers.   
Merlin's blue eyes are looking up at him, exhausted, but bright and well. “I hear it was quite a close call yesterday,” he says.  
He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else, for Arthur's lips are covering his. Merlin wraps his arm around Arthur's neck, pulling him closer. Tears are streaming down Arthur's face, but he doesn’t care.   
Merlin, I love you! he shouts silently. Of course, he won’t tell Merlin that – it’s an even surer way to ruin their easy friendship than unwanted physical advances would have been – but right now he doesn’t care. If he has to go his whole life hiding his feelings, he will live a long, happy life, so long as Merlin is by his side.   
“Come on,” Arthur says, gently putting hand behind Merlin's back and helping him sit up. “Let’s go home.”  
That night, for the first time in as long as Arthur can remember, he doesn’t have the nightmare.

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Morgana watches the two men carefully as they ride back into Camelot, and frowns in confusion at what she sees. As Arthur rides in, she can clearly see from the way he is looking at Merlin that her plan has worked – Arthur's love shines from his eyes, lighting up his whole face. He looks positively radiant.  
Merlin, on the other hand, still looks sad and downcast. He also has bags under his eyes, as though he hasn’t been sleeping properly. When he looks at Arthur, nothing has changed – he hasn’t realised his love yet.  
Well, half way there, Morgana thinks wearily. They are turning out to be even more stubbornly blind than she had thought…

***

Merlin watches Arthur train, revelling in the beauty of the sweat-slicked muscles. Maybe after training he and Arthur can take a bath together. Arthur seems so happy these days, it’s hard not for at least some of it to rub off on Merlin, despite his unexplained sadness. Perhaps it’s only lack of sleep – the nightmares have continued as usual, and they are taking their toll.  
“Excuse me? Hello? You’re the king’s servant, right?”  
Merlin turns around to see a timid looking young man watching him with wide eyes.   
“Yes, that’s right,” Merlin says, forcing on a smile for the boy. “What can I do for you?”  
“Well, um, I was just wondering… I know you live with the court physician,” he says, his eyes flickering nervously around. “I always wanted to learn healing… my parents thought I should apprentice. I was hoping maybe you could…” his voice trails away as he stares at his feet.  
“Speak to Gaius for you?”  
“Yes,” he mumbles, embarrassed.  
“Of course,” Merlin says brightly. “He’ll be overjoyed to have an actual apprentice – I’ve never been as interested in his craft as he would have liked.   
The boy looks up, suddenly hopeful. “I’m Thomas.”  
“Nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m Merlin.”  
The two of them continue chatting amicably while Arthur trains and Merlin takes him up to Gaius’ chambers before readying Arthur's bath. This has gotten much easier since Arthur has known about his magic, as he can heat it with magic without having to try to hide what he’s doing.  
“There’s a new boy, Thomas,” Merlin says in the bath, leaning back against Arthur's chest. “He wants to learn to be a physician.”  
“Do you think Gaius will take him on?” Arthur asks, stroking Merlin's wet hair.   
“I think so. He seems like a very sweet young man. He’ll be an asset to Camelot.”  
Arthur frowns at the somewhat tender note in Merlin's voice, but doesn’t comment.   
Over the next few weeks, Arthur's frown becomes more pronounced. True, Merlin still looks tired and miserable most of the time, and he lights up when spending time in bed with Arthur, but he increasingly lights up after spending time talking to Thomas, too.   
He still chucks around playful banter with Arthur, and their friendship is as strong as ever. But now that Arthur knows that what he feels for Merlin is more than friendship, it is much harder to watch him becoming close to someone else, even if he isn’t doing anything physical with him… yet.  
Arthur becomes increasingly annoyed whenever Merlin talks about Thomas, especially when he’s praising him. Arthur can’t deny that the boy seems to be doing well under Gaius’ guidance, but he has to stop himself grinding his teeth whenever he hears strains of pride in Merlin's voice when talking about the boy. The two of them will spend hours together whenever both of them have time off, talking and laughing together.  
Arthur tries to keep his temper in check – after all, it’s not Merlin's fault he doesn’t feel the same about Arthur as Arthur feels about him – but one day, he snaps.  
“Thomas was saying,” Merlin begins, a smile already forming on his lips.  
“Enough!” Arthur shouts, surprising even himself with his outburst. “I don’t care what stupid Thomas thinks! Can you just shut up about him for five minutes?”  
“Arthur, what’s wrong with you?”  
I’m in love with you and I’m watching you fall for someone else! Arthur rages silently, but outwardly his mouth just opens and closes stupidly. “Just – just go polish my chainmail,” he spits at Merlin.   
He turns away, not wanting to see Merlin's hurt expression. Instead, he dwells on his dreams, which are increasingly becoming more pleasant than reality. The old nightmare about Merlin has changed to a wonderful dream. He and Merlin are lying in each other’s arms, whispering their love to each other… it’s in a different place every night, but the dreams always have the same air of happiness and contentment.   
It still surprises Arthur that all it took to change his nightmare to a dream was realising that he’s in love with Merlin. He supposes it’s fair. He should get good dreams when his waking life is rapidly becoming a nightmare.  
Quickly abandoning thoughts of clean chainmail, he strides over to Merlin and spins him around, kissing him firmly on the mouth. Merlin responds as he always does – with great enthusiasm. Arthur sighs into his mouth. If this is all he can have from Merlin, he will have to live with it. He won’t deny Merlin happiness; if he wants to fall in love with someone else, Arthur won’t stop him.  
Of course, Merlin may want to stop doing this at some point if he really gets serious with Thomas, so Arthur will just have to be content with his friendship. The thought is like a knife in his heart.  
Merlin loses himself in the kiss. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him lately. He goes from mildly happy to the depths of misery with no warning. He feels like he doesn’t understand anything anymore, like there’s something in his life he is doing wrong, but he can’t work out what.   
Still, being with Arthur always cheers him up, even if he feels worse afterwards. He can always see Thomas – sometimes being with him helps, too. Merlin feels a twist of guilt, but dismisses it. He has nothing to feel guilty about, after all. Maybe he really is going mad…  
Merlin brings his hand up and twists it in the hair at the base of Arthur's neck, forcing him closer, pressing urgently into the other’s mouth with his tongue.   
Arthur groans and starts to pull Merlin towards the bed, trying to keep contact with their lips at the same time. Of course, Merlin's clumsiness has to make its appearance then. He trips over his own feet and brings Arthur down with him, landing hard on his back with Arthur on top of him.  
Arthur doesn’t care as he presses down on Merlin. The anguish he feels for Merlin's growing relationship with Thomas scrapes at the back of his mind and all he wants is to forget about it. His hands move firmly down Merlin's body until they reach his breeches. Merlin makes noises of encouragement as Arthur swiftly unlaces him, his hands circling the bulging erection.   
Arthur unlaces his own breeches and pushes himself against Merlin, the contact sending waves of pleasure through him. He usually lasts much longer than this but his own urgent need surprises him. He rubs back and forth against Merlin, pressing hard, moaning loudly as the feelings build like a crescendo inside him.   
With a final grunt, he comes, soaking Merlin and himself. Arthur collapses down on top of Merlin, panting heavily. After a few moments, he realises that Merlin is still achingly hard and moves to rectify the situation.   
“Sorry,” he mutters, embarrassed at how quickly he finished. He takes Merlin's erection into his mouth, putting his hands on Merlin's hips as they buck up, as he knew they would. Merlin reaches blindly up and entwines his fingers in Arthur's hair again as Arthur's mouth moves with increasing pace along his throbbing shaft. His tongue drags over the sensitive head, causing Merlin to shout his name, his hands tugging harder at Arthur's hair, desperate for release.   
It isn’t long before Merlin is crying Arthur's name, flooding Arthur's mouth with warm liquid which he quickly swallows.   
Merlin reaches for Arthur and pulls him so that they are lying together in each other’s arms. For a minute, Arthur forgets that they are on the cold, hard floor, and just relishes being held by Merlin. If only it meant the same thing to Merlin as it did to him…  
“Are you ok?” Merlin asks eventually.  
“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” Arthur can’t quite hide the note of defensiveness in his voice.  
“You just seemed… upset. Is everything alright?”  
“It’s fine, Merlin,” Arthur says, suddenly very weary. If Merlin is finding happiness in Thomas, Arthur won’t be the one to make him unhappy, no matter what that means for Arthur's own feelings. 

Later that night, Merlin is putting out the candles as usual and Arthur is watching him, trying to make it seem as though he’s not watching. Merlin is about to leave for the night. He turns as usual to Arthur. “Is there anything else, sire?”  
“Stay with me tonight.” The words slip out of Arthur's mouth before he can stop them, his pleading tone betraying a vulnerability that he seldom allows to slip through. He knows that Merlin doesn’t feel the same as he does, so he’s never before asked the sorcerer to stay the night. Today, though, he’s just feeling sad and weak and in need of reassurance.   
Merlin looks surprised, but smiles willingly enough. He climbs into bed with Arthur, who lifts the covers and pulls Merlin closer. Merlin turns to kiss him and Arthur returns it, but breaks away soon after. Right now, he just wants to hold Merlin close, to feel his beating heart. Merlin seems to realise this, because he settles in Arthur's arms willingly enough.   
I love you, Arthur thinks, wishing he could say the words aloud. The wish gets stronger and stronger as he lies with Merlin. He could say it. Just three little words. How hard could it be? It would surely be a relief for Merlin to know how he feels. Arthur opens his mouth, hesitates, and closes it again.   
Maybe he could say the words, but could he deal with the consequences? What are the chances of Merlin still being comfortable around him if he knows Arthur's true feelings? Arthur has to admit to himself, the odds aren’t great. As upsetting as it may be to hide this from Merlin, it would be a thousand times worse to lose him completely. That, Arthur is sure he couldn’t live through.  
So he simply presses a kiss to the back of Merlin's neck, murmuring the words in his mind until he falls asleep.  
Arthur is woken in the middle of the night by a sharp jab to the ribs. He jerks awake, rubbing the spot and about to reprimand Merlin when he realises that Merlin is still asleep, jerking and twitching like he did that time before in the tent – as though he’s having a nightmare.  
Arthur wonders if he should wake him, hesitating, wondering if Merlin would want to be woken. He is finally decided by the anguished expression on Merlin's face and shakes his arm gently. “Merlin. Merlin, wake up.”  
“Arthur!” Merlin sits up with a gasp, looking wildly around the dark room. “Arthur!”  
“It’s ok, Merlin, I’m here,” Arthur says in a soft, reassuring voice.   
Merlin's hands find his face in the semi-darkness, tracing his cheekbones and trailing down to his chest. Arthur can feel his heartbeat thumping into Merlin's hands, and Merlin finally seems to relax. He lies back down, shaking, his body covered in cold sweat. Arthur wraps his arms around the scared boy and holds tightly.   
“Was it a nightmare?” he asks, rubbing Merlin's arms soothingly.  
“Yes,” Merlin says, and his voice is still a bit unsteady.  
Arthur keeps holding and stroking him until Merlin has stopped shaking before speaking again.  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Merlin hesitates for only a second. “I dreamed I saw you die. I dream it every night. We’re in some sort of glass cave and there’s this gas that comes in. It doesn’t affect me, but it chokes you. You die in my arms and there’s nothing I can do about it.”  
Merlin is shaking again, but Arthur barely notices this time. His body is stiff in shock. How can he and Merlin possibly be having the same dream? Well, the same dream until Arthur's changed. It doesn’t make any sense, so he quickly shoves it from his mind, focusing on comforting Merlin.  
“It’s ok, I’m right here,” he says, kissing Merlin's neck and ears. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
Merlin gradually relaxes and drifts back into sleep, leaving Arthur with his thoughts.   
Were he a more astute person, Arthur may have thought that perhaps the same thing that stopped his nightmares – realising he is in love with his best friend – may be exactly what Merlin needs. However, Arthur merely lies there with his confused thoughts, which come to no resolution before he falls asleep. In the morning, he doesn’t think any more about the nightmares.

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

The sorceress looks into her crystal, smiling in anticipation. How will the king fare trying to rule Camelot when his love is dead? She wonders if he’s buried the sorcerer, yet…  
What she sees has her leaping to her feet in rage. Pendragon and the sorcerer are sleeping peacefully in bed together. She growls in frustration. How could it not have worked? The disease she planted among the villagers was fatal, and she’d done enough research on the idiot sorcerer to know that he’d take it into himself to heal them. His magic wasn’t strong enough to defeat it – she’d seen to that.  
Something must have happened. As she glares down at the sleeping couple, she is sure it has something to do with the blonde man wrapped up in the troublesome sorcerer.   
“Fine, Pendragon,” she mutters. “If I can’t avenge my loved ones that your father slaughtered by taking your love, I will just have to settle for your life…

“Right, Arthur, that’s enough!” Morgana says angrily, slapping her hand onto the table.   
“What?” Arthur looks up from the porridge he’s been contemplating rather than eating.  
“I’m sick to death of you moping around like a lovesick fool,” she snaps. “Just tell Merlin how you feel already!”  
Arthur doesn’t even question how she knows. “I can’t, Morgana,” he says. “Merlin is with Thomas and he’s happy about it. I won’t take away his happiness. Besides, it would ruin our friendship. Things would be awkward between Merlin and me if I told him, you know they would.”  
“No, they wouldn’t, Arthur,” Morgana says patiently, “because Merlin feels the same way you do, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”  
“He doesn’t,” Arthur says. Of this, he is sure. Heartbreakingly sure, but sure all the same. “I would know.”  
“Arthur, you wouldn’t know your hands from your feet if Merlin wasn’t there to dress you every day,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Trust me, he feels the same. He’ll realise that when you tell him.”  
“No,” Arthur says stubbornly. He refuses to put his own happiness above Merlin's; he loves him too much to do that.  
Morgana throws up her hands and gives up, resisting the urge to take her goblet and throw it at Arthur's stupid head. Fine, let him mope and be miserable, see if I care, she says to herself, knowing all the while that it’s a complete and utter lie.  
Arthur finishes his breakfast and slowly starts getting ready for training. He’s given Merlin the morning off to spend with Thomas, but has given him orders to have a bath ready for as soon as training is over.   
The day flies by with little mention of Thomas, and by the evening, Arthur is feeling somewhat better. He doesn’t ask Merlin to stay as the sorcerer puts out the candles. He can’t resist sometimes, but Arthur usually lets Merlin sleep in his own bed.   
As Merlin goes out, Arthur wonders about their whole strange situation. It strikes him as odd that Merlin is more powerful than anyone else in the kingdom, yet he is still happy to be Arthur's servant. Of course, it’s always been like that, but Arthur expected Merlin to demand a different arrangement now that he knows about the magic.  
Arthur is glad he hasn’t, though. With Merlin as his servant, they still spend most of their time together, and Arthur doesn’t know what he’d do without that.   
The nightmares still haven’t returned, so Arthur sleeps soundly. Too soundly, in fact. He doesn’t hear the faint whisper of feet outside his chambers, the muffled thumps as guards fall to the ground, knocked out by magic. When the sorceress tiptoes into his chambers, he is still fast asleep.  
She has a knife, but that’s only for effect. She doesn’t plan to kill him now. No, Arthur Pendragon must be made to suffer before he dies, just as all those she loved suffered as his father hunted them down and slaughtered them like animals.  
Her whispered spell might have caused Arthur to wake, but as the magic envelopes him, he is bound to sleep whether his body wants it or not. She grabs his arm and mutters another spell, no longer bothering to be quiet. A screeching black wind starts up around them and within moments she and Arthur are gone.  
When Arthur wakes, he is in a dungeon cell.   
He leaps up, unable to remember how he got here. He had been asleep in his chambers, he’s sure of it. Yet as he looks around the small room, there’s no doubt that it’s a dungeon – and not one in Camelot, either.   
“Hello?” he calls, getting up and going to the bars. “Who are you? Why have you brought me here?”  
A soft voice comes from out of the shadows. “I am just one of many, Arthur Pendragon. One of many who have suffered because of the Pendragon reign. Now you will suffer in turn.”  
A woman steps forward, smiling at Arthur in a way that leaves him in no doubt that her intentions towards him are anything but benign. “You can call me Nulhue,” she says smoothly. “Perhaps you knew my cousin, Nimueh? She was just one of many to suffer under Uther's reign.”  
“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you must know that I am not my father,” Arthur says angrily. “Magic users no longer suffer in Camelot.”  
“But your actions – no matter how noble – cannot wash away the blood of the past. Only blood can wash away blood.”  
Arthur doesn’t answer this. Clearly, this woman can’t be reasoned with. Instead, he starts looking around his cell, trying to find a weak point. There is a small window, but the bars are so tightly spaced he can barely fit a hand between them. The door appears solid, and rattling it does no good at all.  
Well, she’ll have to feed me sometime, he thinks to himself. I can make a break as soon as she opens the door…  
Five hours later, Arthur is beginning to question his assumption. Nulhue hasn’t tortured him, yet it was clearly her intention to make him suffer. Maybe this will be no more complicated than letting him die a slow death deprived of food and water. He may not be suffering now, but Arthur has been in enough water-deprived situations that this will very soon be rectified. There goes his hope of escape.

Merlin shuffles into Arthur's room as usual, carrying his breakfast tray. He slept particularly badly last night, waking up in the middle of it with a feeling of deep dread he couldn’t identify. Too tired from his nightmares to do anything else, though, he simply rolled over and went back to sleep.  
“Breakfast,” he calls to the lump of bedding Arthur is rolled up under. When Arthur doesn’t move, Merlin clambers onto the bed, ready to hit him with a pillow. “Come on you lazy dollophead, up with you!”  
When his hand reaches for Arthur's shoulder, he finds only a pillow.  
With rising anxiety, Merlin throws the bedding off, but finds the bed empty. Trying not to panic, he hurries to the royal dining room. Maybe Arthur took an early breakfast with Morgana without telling him…  
It takes less than an hour for Merlin to determine that Arthur is not in Camelot. By that time, the knights and guards are running around helping with the search, but the king is nowhere to be found.   
Panicking, wracked with guilt that he didn’t save Arthur from whatever has him, Merlin goes back to Arthur's room. Over the past few weeks, he’s felt a strange sort of connection to Arthur, one he can’t explain. If he can somehow use magic to illuminate the connection, it could lead him to wherever Arthur is. It’s a slim hope, but it’s all Merlin has. The knights have already confirmed that there are no tracks and no signs of struggle.  
Merlin speaks a spell and the room lights up briefly, but nothing else happens. Panic gnawing at the pit of his stomach, Merlin tries again with the same result. “Come on, Arthur, where are you?” he mutters. The third time he tries, the room lights up again, but it is as though Merlin is being drawn into the light.  
He is pulled over many leagues, flying past trees and rivers until he reaches an abandoned, crumbling castle. There, in the stone bowels of the place, Arthur is lying on a small pallet, looking weak and pale. That isn’t the worst thing, though. There is a woman watching him. She is idly levitating a chair, as though bored. Merlin doesn’t recognise her, but she is clearly a sorceress.   
As he zooms backwards, the light seems to shine through the entire ruin, and he can see the countless magical traps she has laid. There is no way he’s getting through there alive.  
There’s no way he’s not trying.  
Merlin is already running back to his chambers, cramming things into his pack, writing a hurried note to Gaius. He doesn’t know what the sorceress’ intentions towards Arthur are, but he’s sure they can’t be good.   
Merlin takes the swiftest horses from the stables, babbling hurried explanations to the stable hands. Nobody moves to stop him and soon enough he is flying through the forest, urging the horses ever faster.   
Merlin isn’t sure how long he rides for. He only knows when he stops. He is galloping at full tilt when all three horses start slowing down. He kicks his steed’s sides impatiently, but it ignores him, coming to a stubborn stop. Merlin swears in frustration and jumps down. He’s getting to Arthur, no matter what. He’ll crawl, if he has to.  
Preparing himself for a long run, Merlin stops in his tracks when a tall, thin woman appears from the trees. Well, ‘woman’ is the best description he can think of. She has the shape of a human woman, but her skin is pale brown like the inner wood of a tree and there is something distinctly non-human about her eyes.  
“Emrys. I have been waiting for you.”  
Normally, Merlin would have demanded to know how she knew him, but he doesn’t have time for that right now. He makes to brush past her.  
“You cannot save him,” she says, causing Merlin to freeze in place again.  
“What?”  
“You will not be able to save your king… at least, not without my help.”  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin spits.  
“I have seen what you face, young warlock,” she says in a smooth voice. “You have seen it, too. You know you will not make it back from this mission alive. You are prepared to die for your king… but what good will your death do him when he is to suffer the same fate?”  
“Fine, I’m listening,” Merlin says, spinning around to face her.  
“I am one of the wood nymphs of the forest,” she says. “I have magic of a different kind to humans, magic that Nulhue will not expect. I can give you the tools you need to rescue your king… in exchange for three wishes.”  
“What wishes?” Merlin asks suspiciously.  
“That is yet to be decided. If you agree, I will summon you when I decide and speak my wish to you. You will do everything in your power to fulfil it, no matter what it is I desire.”  
“And if I say no?”  
“Then you are free to go to your doom without my help.” She smiles, as though she knows exactly what Merlin will decide. He glares at her. “You will not allow the man you love to die,” she says. “We both know you’re going to say yes, anyway. Come on. Arthur's time is running out.”  
Merlin gapes at her. “The man I – ?”   
“Don’t lie to me, Merlin. You may lie to yourself, but I can see your heart clearly, and your love for your king shines brighter than anything. Now, tell my your answer.”  
Merlin puts aside her confusing words and forces himself to think about her offer. He has to consider for only a second. “Fine. You have a deal.”

Arthur's eyes open blearily. He has a raging headache. It must be a full day since he’s had a drop of water, and he’s already suffering. He knows that it’s only going to get a lot worse.   
Nulhue is sitting in her chair opposite his cell, as usual, watching him suffer. He tries not to show it, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, but he knows he can only last so long.  
Her head turns sharply as though someone has called her name. “Well, well, well,” she says, smiling. “Looks like I’ll be able to make you suffer more than I imagined after all.”  
Arthur doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an answer, so he simply glares at her. Nulhue doesn’t notice, though. She snaps her fingers and some kind of metal vine starts coming out of the wall. That in itself would have been alarming, but Arthur hardly sees the vine. All he sees is Merlin, entwined in its arms.  
“Merlin,” he groans. “You idiot!”  
Nulhue looks expectantly at Merlin, as though she knows exactly what he’s going to say. Of course she does. Anyone who knows anything about Merlin could guess his next words.  
“You can have me,” he says, still struggling with the restraints, “just let Arthur go. I willingly offer my life for his.”  
Nulhue glances at Arthur with a malicious smile. He knows it’s no good – she clearly knows how he feels about Merlin, and now she can hurt him more than she had ever imagined possible.  
“Alright, sorcerer,” she says softly. “You have a deal.”

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

“No! Merlin, don’t!” Arthur yells, feeling like his heart is splitting into pieces.   
Merlin looks calmly at Arthur. “It’s my destiny, Arthur,” he says softly. The words further break Arthur's heart; is that all he is to Merlin – destiny?  
“No, no, please,” Arthur begs, shaking so badly that he has to hold onto the bars of the cell to keep himself upright. “You can’t – Merlin, I love you! Please, I can’t bear to see you die, Merlin!”  
Merlin freezes in shock, staring at Arthur. The wood nymph’s words come back to him. You will not allow the man you love to die. Could this be the answer to everything? All of the thoughts and emotions over the past months that Merlin can’t make sense of, could that be it? Love? Is he in love with Arthur?  
His confused thoughts are interrupted by Arthur's fervent pleading. “Nulhue, please, you have me, let Merlin go. It’s my family that has persecuted your kind, not him. Merlin's a sorcerer, too – he’s your kin. You can’t kill him!”  
She just laughs softly. “Oh, how I have longed for this. Even I never dreamed it would be this good. No, you will not die, Arthur Pendragon. You will watch the person you love above all die at my hands, and spend the rest of your life living with that. You deserve no less than this.”  
“Let Arthur go first,” Merlin insists. “Then you can have me.”  
Nulhue shrugs and points at the cell door. Her eyes glow gold and the door opens. Arthur rushes out, trying to grab Merlin, to cover him with his body, to protect him in any way he can. He is stopped by an invisible wall, a couple of feet away from Merlin.  
The expression on Merlin's face is not what he expected, though. As Arthur stumbles out, something like triumph flashes across Merlin's face. Before Arthur can even begin to question it, Merlin is opening his mouth. Instead of incanting a spell, though, some kind of gas seems to flow from him, engulfing the room in white.  
Arthur shrinks back from magic unlike he has ever seen Merlin perform before. He can’t see or hear, the white fog is covering his eyes and ears. For what seems like an eternity, he is completely lost in blankness.  
Then the fog starts to clear and become transparent. When it does, he sees Merlin – free of the vines – coming towards him.  
“Merlin?”   
“Come on, Arthur,” he says gently, taking the king’s arm.  
Arthur looks wildly around for Nulhue and sees her crumpled body on the floor.  
“She’s dead,” Merlin says.  
“But – how?”  
“I had help – it’s a long story. Let’s get out of here, Arthur. Her traps won’t be immobilised for long.”  
Merlin takes Arthur's hand, pulling him out of the ruined castle. He gives Arthur a water skin which Arthur quickly drains, moving onto another that Merlin hands him at once. They walk in silence until the castle is out of sight. Finally, they reach the horses and Merlin makes to mount up, but Arthur stops him.  
“Why, Merlin? You nearly gave me a heart attack, offering to sacrifice yourself like that. Couldn’t you have done that fog thing from the start?”  
“I had to,” Merlin explains. “Nulhue had a powerful spell cast on the cell you were in. She’d been working on that castle for years – even my magic wasn’t powerful enough to take on everything she’d hidden in there. If she had died before releasing you, the cell would have been sealed first, and there would have been no way to get you out. I had to make sure you were released before activating the magic the wood nymph gave me.”  
Arthur has about a million questions, but as he looks into Merlin's eyes, they seem to vanish.   
“You shouldn’t have,” he says softly, his hand caressing Merlin's face.   
“I had to,” Merlin replies.  
“Yes, yes, your destiny.”  
“No.”  
Arthur looks up.   
“I mean, yes, it’s my destiny,” Merlin says, “but…” He hesitates, wondering if what the wood nymph said is true. But if he’s being honest with himself, he knows it’s true. He’s known ever since he realised Arthur had disappeared, realised that he could lose him.   
“I love you,” Merlin says softly. His eyes bore into Arthur's for a brief second before he closes then, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder, as though his confession has drained him. He consequently doesn’t see Arthur's expression of pure joy, but Merlin can hear it vibrating in every syllable of his words. “I love you, too.”  
Merlin looks up just in time to see Arthur's lips descending on his. He responds with a wild gasp, pressing himself desperately up against his king, clinging to his strong shoulders.   
“I thought I’d lost you, you prat,” he mutters as Arthur moves down to kiss his neck.   
Arthur moans into his skin. “You’ll never lose me. Never.”  
He is well on his way to getting Merlin's clothes off when he pauses suddenly.   
“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks.  
“Thomas.”  
To Arthur's surprise, Merlin blushes.   
“It’s ok, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” Arthur assures him.   
“No, it’s not that,” Merlin admits. “Thomas… he isn’t all that he seems. He was part of Nulhue's plan all along.”  
“What?”  
“It’s not like it’s his fault or anything,” Merlin hurriedly assures him. “Nulhue knew you loved me – and she knew that I didn’t realise I was in love with you yet. She wanted to torture you by making you watch me become involved with someone else.  
“She spent ages searching for an appropriate person. Thomas lived in a small town with no physician. All he ever wanted was to be a physician, but his parents couldn’t afford to send him anywhere to apprentice. Nulhue played the part of a generous benefactor and sent him to Camelot. What he didn’t know is that she cast a spell on him, charging him to seduce me. He didn’t know he was under her control the whole time.”  
“What about now?” Arthur asks fearfully.   
“She’s dead – the spell will have died with her. I’m not sure how much of the past few weeks Thomas will remember. He may want to go home to his family. If he wants to stay, though, I think Gaius should keep him. He really will be a great physician, and it’s not his fault that Nulhue manipulated him.”  
Arthur would normally argue, but his head is still spinning with joy at the revelation that Merlin feels the same way he does. “Alright,” he says, grinning at the happy look that spreads across Merlin's face. Arthur leans in hungrily to kiss him, but Merlin places a hand on his lips.  
“We should get back to Camelot. Everyone is worried sick about you. We need to let them know that you’re alright.”  
Merlin laughs at the reluctance on Arthur's face. “We’ll have plenty of time for this when we get back for Camelot.”  
“We’d better,” Arthur grumbles, but he allows Merlin to help him onto a horse, chewing on some dried meat as they ride.  
On the way back to Camelot, Merlin fills Arthur in on all that happened in the quest to rescue him. Arthur is quite alarmed by the wishes Merlin owes the wood nymph, but Merlin manages to calm him down. “Really, I don’t think she’s malicious – she won’t use the wishes for anything bad. She probably just wants the assurance of help from a sorcerer when she needs it.”  
As much as Arthur grumbles, he can see Merlin's point. Besides, if Merlin hadn’t done as he had, Arthur would still be dying of thirst in that dark stone cell. He wishes the burden could be his to bear instead of Merlin's, but what’s done is done.  
They are still a few miles from Camelot when they run into Arthur's knights, who have been scouring the woods ever since Arthur was taken. Gwaine rushes back to the castle to deliver the news and by the time they are back, the city has calmed slightly, knowing that their king is safe and well.  
Arthur permits Merlin to run in to see Gaius and assure him that he’s ok before ordering him back to his chambers. Merlin has barely gotten in before Arthur is pinning him to the wall, kissing him fiercely.   
Merlin groans and seems to melt into his arms. This is hardly the first time they have done this… but it’s the first time since Merlin realised how he feels about Arthur. Everything seems heightened, every touch seeming to reach deep inside him, causing his heart to beat so fast it feels like it’s about to jump out of his chest.  
His fingers run through the fine blonde hair on Arthur's chest as Arthur's arms wrap around his waist, pulling Merlin close.   
“Hey!” Merlin yells as Arthur scoops him up in his arms and flips Merlin over his shoulder. Giggling, Merlin pounds on Arthur's back as the king carries him to the bed, flipping him onto it and crawling on top of him.   
“I love you,” Arthur growls in his ear, sending shivers down Merlin's spine.  
“I love you,” he replies as his hands roam over Arthur's broad back, his finger nails digging in ever so slightly.   
Merlin moans as Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulls down his breeches, his lips tickling Merlin's thighs as he kisses and licks softly.   
“Get a move on, you prat,” Merlin gasps and Arthur chuckles softly. The rest of their clothes are magicked off, Merlin too impatient to wait any longer. “Hurry up,” he moans to Arthur.   
“Yes, sire,” he mocks Merlin, but Merlin can’t think of a witty reply, for Arthur's tongue is flicking over his bulging erection. Merlin moans and his hips buck upwards, but Arthur's hands are holding him down, oblivious to Merlin's desperate pushing.   
“Arthur, please,” he gasps as Arthur's mouth moves upwards to lick one of his nipples. Merlin arches his back, not thinking, completely ruled by the sensations emanating from Arthur's wonderful mouth.   
“Arthur!” he begs. Arthur's mouth cover’s Merlin's, shutting up his protests and Merlin grinds himself upwards. Arthur laughs into his mouth. Teasing Merlin has him so achingly hard, it is all he can do not to break down and take him at once. As he feels Merlin's erection brushing against him, he moans into Merlin's mouth, driven mad by the delicious friction.   
He wants this to last, though. This is the first time he and Merlin have been together since they have both admitted their feelings. Arthur wants it to be magical.  
As though in answer to his thoughts, Merlin's eyes glow gold and Arthur feels as though an invisible weight has dropped onto his hips. He collapses onto Merlin, who grinds himself upwards, desperately seeking the increased pressure – as Arthur is sure he intended. Sneaky bastard.  
“Merlin, let me up,” he gasps.  
Merlin's head is flicking from side to side and he can barely speak for gasping. Arthur isn’t even sure Merlin hears him.   
“Merlin,” he gasps, trying to focus. The pressure and rubbing on his erection are too much for him and his mouth finds Merlin's again, their teeth clashing together, both men driven wild by lust.  
Finally, Arthur manages to relocate his brain and rolls away from the magical pressure. Merlin's breath huffs out as he removes the barrier. Arthur, meanwhile, is rummaging in the drawer by his bed. Merlin's eyes light up when he sees the oil in Arthur's hand.  
Arthur pours in onto his hands, slicking his fingers up before trailing a hand up Merlin's thighs and gently circling his hole. Merlin whimpers and squirms beneath Arthur's touch and when one of Arthur's fingers enters his tight hole, Merlin screams aloud. Arthur grins as he carefully moves the finger further in, searching for that spot that he knows will send Merlin over the edge.  
When he finds it, Merlin muffles his scream in Arthur's shoulder as his whole body convulses. Arthur adds another finger, than another, opening Merlin up, the only sound in the room the sound of both men panting.   
With one last brush over Merlin's spot, Arthur pulls out and positions his erection, pressing against Merlin's hole.  
With one swift movement, he pushes in. “Gods – Merlin!” he groans, starting to thrust in and out with increasing pace. He adjusts his angle, hitting Merlin's spot again and again. He leans forward so that Merlin's erection is pressed between their bodies, their movement rubbing it with every stroke.  
Merlin comes with a strangled yell and two thrusts later, Arthur is following him, screaming his name. Arthur collapses, spent but satisfied, catching his breath for a minute before pulling out of Merlin. Merlin leans over to kiss him sweetly on the lips.   
“I love you Arthur.”  
“I love you, Merlin.”  
That night, they fall asleep in each other’s arms. For the first time, Merlin's dreams are as peaceful and calm as Arthur's.   
They never sleep in separate chambers again. 

To be continued

Right, that’s it for part one! Part two will be coming soon :) Please remember to review!!


	8. Chapter 8

Morgana watches the king and his sorcerer with an air of satisfaction, smiling smugly. It took a while to get those idiots to realise their feelings, but she got there eventually. Happiness radiates from the couple as they stare gooily into each other’s eyes. Surely, a couple such as them will last forever…

“Arthur,” Merlin whines.   
“No, it’s your turn,” Arthur laughs, shoving Merlin towards the throne room. Merlin grimaces reluctantly. Sure, it sounded great at first – sharing power with Arthur, ruling alongside him. He just never anticipated just how boring it would be sitting for hours taking petitioners. He and Arthur split up the less desirable tasks, but that doesn’t make then any more enjoyable.  
Merlin enters the room and everyone sinks to their knees. He frowns, wishing they wouldn’t. He already feels uncomfortable enough in the long, plush robes Arthur forces him to wear; the bowing only makes it worse.  
In truth, Merlin isn’t nearly as happy as he was three months ago. Everything was perfect – but then Arthur decided that he and Merlin needed to rule as equals. Merlin appreciates that Arthur is only trying to treat him well and make him happy, but he detests being treated differently.  
Of course, Arthur would be heart-broken if Merlin mentioned it – Arthur has struggled so hard to get Camelot to accept Merlin as an equal to him, all in the interests of making Merlin feel happy and loved. Merlin knows Arthur would do anything for him… he just wishes they could go back to him being a nobody, ignored by almost everyone except Arthur.  
He sighs, getting ready for another long morning.

Arthur sits at his desk, doing paperwork. Well, supposedly doing paperwork. Actually, he’s staring at his papers and worrying. Something is wrong with Merlin. He’s known it for a while, but last night, he became sure, because the nightmares came back.  
Not the same nightmare that haunted him when he didn’t know he was in love with Merlin, but another, possibly worse. He and Merlin are in a foggy marsh, each in separate boats. He is trying to paddle towards Merlin, but no matter how fast he paddles forward, his boat insists on going backwards.   
Merlin is calling for him and Arthur tries desperately to answer his call, but he is too far away. Merlin is swallowed into the fog. It was about then that Arthur woke up in a cold sweat. Merlin mumbled something in his sleep and turned over. Arthur wrapped his arms around the sorcerer, holding tightly until his shaking stilled and he drifted off again.   
He wonders if Merlin is also having the dreams. After all, they did share the same nightmare for a while. He wants to ask him, but is afraid that he’ll just make Merlin worry. He knows that Merlin worries about him too much anyway; there’s no need for Arthur to make it worse.  
Arthur sighs and starts signing papers without really looking at them. The morning seems to drag, as it always does when Merlin isn’t with him. Merlin's great, though – he’s much better at dealing with the people than Arthur is. His decisions are always fair and seldom contested. Arthur is better suited to commanding battles – but thankfully, Camelot is at peace.  
Morgana knocks on the door, striding in without waiting for an answer, with a determined air that means Arthur is about to find himself agreeing to something he doesn’t like.  
“Morgana, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.   
“Listen, Arthur, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m guessing it has something to do with Merlin,” she says bluntly flinging herself into a chair in front of his desk. “You need to talk to him.”  
“Merlin and I are fine, thank you very much,” Arthur says.  
“Come on Arthur, don’t be a prat!”   
Arthur frowns. That’s Merlin's word for him, Morgana doesn’t get to use it. She continues, regardless. “I didn’t waste months of effort getting you two together just to watch it fall apart because you two are too stubborn to communicate.”  
Arthur would have quite liked to tell Morgana that she had nothing to do with him and Merlin finally recognising their mutual love, but in all honesty, he knows that she had rather a lot to do with the process. So Arthur swallows his instincts and prepares to do something that he’s never been very good at, even with Merlin: talk about his feelings.  
“I don’t know, Morgana,” he says. “I’m sure there’s something wrong, but I don’t know what. He acts all happy, but he’s not, not really. I’m afraid – I’m afraid he doesn’t love me anymore.”  
Her expression softens into something uncharacteristically tender for Morgana. “I’m sure that’s not it,” she says. “I see how he looks at you. If anything, he loves you more than ever.”  
“Then what’s the problem?”  
“You should be asking him that, Arthur, not me. These things can so often be resolved with a simple conversation.”  
“I don’t want to pry,” Arthur mumbles. “If he wants to tell me, he will.”  
“Well, he hasn’t so far; it looks like you’re going to have to make the first move.”  
Arthur sighs in resignation, finding himself – as he expected – agreeing to something he really doesn’t want to do. “Ok, I’ll talk to him.”  
“Good,” Morgana says, getting up.   
Arthur looks at her, intending to say thank you, but what comes out instead is, “You really are an interfering pain in the backside, you know that, right?”  
“Right, Arthur,” she laughs on her way out, seeing right through him. He’s sure she can also understand his need to slip back into their normal routine of teasing and antagonising each other. Sometimes he thinks Morgana knows him too well…  
Merlin comes in for lunch, looking rather unhappy. He perks up after a while, though, suggesting that he and Arthur go on a picnic in the forest the next day. Arthur thinks guiltily of the piles of paper awaiting his or Merlin's signature… but Merlin's eyes are gleaming in anticipation. How can he say no to that face?  
That night, Arthur climbs into bed with Merlin feeling considerably more anxious than he should when he’s going to be sleeping for the next eight hours. It seems that his fears aren’t unfounded, though. He wakes with a gasp in the middle of the night, having had the same horrible, foggy, watery nightmare.  
His sudden movement wakes Merlin, who props himself up on an elbow, sending a flame to the nearest candle. “Arthur? What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” Arthur mumbles. “Just a nightmare.”  
As much as he tries to brush it off, he knows that he is pale and shaking. Merlin, to Arthur's eternal gratitude, doesn’t pry, but just puts his arms tightly around Arthur, murmuring comforting things in his ear.   
“It was just a dream. Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”  
Arthur clutches Merlin's hands to his chest, wanting never to let go. Merlin can feel Arthur's desperate vulnerability and keeps holding him, whispering soft reassurances. Arthur tries not to imagine the worst: what if the dream is coming true? What if he is losing Merlin?  
His last thought before he gets back to sleep is that he’ll have to talk to Merlin tomorrow.  
The next day Merlin packs up their stuff – he’s seemed oddly resistant to Arthur getting another servant, though Arthur doesn’t exactly disagree. The thought of having a servant other than Merlin is just plain strange, even though Merlin hasn’t been a servant for a while now.  
As they ride a short distance from the castle, Merlin blabbers nonsense as usual and seems to become his usual, bright self. Arthur can’t understand how his mood changes from sad and downcast to bubbly and cheerful.   
It seems almost silly to bring up the subject now that Merlin seems so happy, but he knows from previous – very confusing – experiences that Merlin will probably be back to his unhappier self tomorrow. He may as well ask him now, when they have a whole day alone ahead of them.  
Arthur glances over his shoulder wishing – rather cowardly – that they had brought guards with them, denying him of the perfect opportunity to talk to Merlin alone. Of course, with the most powerful sorcerer in the land by his side, guards are all but obsolete. Arthur sighs glumly as he helps Merlin set out the stuff for their picnic.  
They eat in companionable silence for a while before Arthur finally works up the nerve to say something. “Merlin?”  
Merlin looks up from his sandwich.   
“Is there anything… wrong? It’s just,” Arthur continues in a rush, “you’ve seemed upset lately. What’s on your mind?”  
Merlin's cheeks go slightly red and he doesn’t meet Arthur's gaze. “It’s nothing, Arthur, I’m fine,” he says softly, pulling a very bright smile onto his face which Arthur doesn’t trust.   
Arthur knows he should pursue it, force Merlin to tell him what’s wrong, but he’s afraid. What if Merlin tells Arthur that he doesn’t love him anymore? Arthur doesn’t think he can stand to hear that. Though it is cowardly and weak, he simply nods and puts on a fake smile to match Merlin's.   
He changes the subject, and soon Merlin is talking happily again. Arthur watches his mesmerising lips, not really paying attention to what Merlin is saying. Merlin must notice, for the next thing Arthur knows, he’s being hit over the head with an empty goblet. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said, you prat?” Merlin demands.  
Arthur doesn’t respond but lunges forward and grabs Merlin, pulling their bodies roughly together. Merlin seems to forget his irritation at once as he gets caught up in kissing Arthur, as Arthur knew he would. They’ve had the lust part down for ages, but just desire isn’t enough for Arthur anymore. How can he go back to meaningless sex if it turns out Merlin really doesn’t love him anymore?  
He loses himself in the sensations, his hand on the back of Merlin's neck, his tongue in the sorcerer’s mouth, seeking and pulling deeper.   
Merlin leans forward so far that he and Arthur both fall backwards so that Arthur is lying on his back with Merlin on top of him. The arrangement suits them both perfectly.   
Arthur moans with need as he pulls Merlin's tunic over his head and starts to wriggle out of his own clothes while Merlin gets out of his pants. Merlin presses himself down on Arthur, who feels their leaking erections rubbing against each other. Arthur usually tries to make it last, but today he is seized by a sort of anguished desperation, formed from his fear of losing Merlin.  
“Do you have oil?” he breathes in Merlin's ear.  
“No, but that’s easily remedied.”  
Arthur watches for the incredible flash of gold in Merlin's eyes before a vial of oil appears in his hand. Arthur makes to roll over so that he is on top, but Merlin puts a hand to his chest, grinning cheekily. Arthur smiles, and gestures for Merlin to go ahead.   
Merlin usually prefers to bottom, but when he asks Arthur to do it, Arthur is hardly going to deny him anything. Arthur is already quivering in anticipation as Merlin's oiled hands slide up his thighs and start to circle his tight hole.   
“Hurry up,” he moans and Merlin frowns slightly, no doubt sensing the anguished note that is more than just urgent desire. Still, he does as Arthur asks and swiftly slips one, then two, then three fingers inside him. Arthur bucks upwards, grabbing Merlin's arm to try to push him further in, desperate for more.  
Merlin, however, pulls his fingers out, earning a whimper from Arthur. Soon, though, his fingers have been replaced by his erection and Arthur is whimpering in a very different way. They rock together, the only sound their hoarse panting and the slapping of flesh on flesh.   
Merlin's hand gently strokes across Arthur's erection and that it is all it takes. With a wild gasp, Arthur is coming all over Merlin's pale chest and Merlin is pounding into him fiercely until he too is yelling and spilling into Arthur.   
It was very quick – almost embarrassingly so – but Arthur doesn’t mind. For a little while, his mind was taken off his worries.   
“I love you,” he says to Merlin, almost like a challenge.  
“I love you, too,” Merlin replies. Arthur can see only honesty and sincerity shining from his eyes, yet he is still afraid. Merlin has definitely been unhappy about something. Arthur closes his eyes and holds Merlin tightly to him, afraid – for the first time in a long time – for their future.

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin glances over his shoulder as he sneaks out of the palace. He’s only got a day of paperwork ahead of him – he can pretend he fell asleep or something. Arthur won’t be happy, but he shouldn’t be suspicious either. He’ll never know Merlin was gone.  
Merlin pulls his hood up as he hurries to the lower town, glancing up only occasionally to check that he’s headed in the right direction. He finds the house he’s looking for and knocks twice on the door. He holds his breath for a second before it opens.   
“Gwen,” he breathes in relief, slipping past her into her kitchen and taking off his hood.   
“Merlin,” she says, her voice surprised but welcoming. “What are you doing here?”  
“I’m hid – that is, I’m taking a day off. I thought I’d spend it with you and Lancelot, if that’s alright?”  
“Of course,” Gwen says, beaming. “Please, sit down. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Arthur sighs as he heads back to his chambers. He shouldn’t really be here, but he’s been dealing with disgruntled knights and merchants for the past three hours and he wants a break. Merlin's doing paperwork; maybe the two of them can take lunch together.  
As he walks in, he is surprised to see that Merlin isn’t there. Surprise turns to alarm when he sees that none of the papers seem touched; Merlin doesn’t appear to have been there the whole day. Why would he go somewhere without telling Arthur?  
Relax, he tells himself firmly. It’s probably nothing.  
He forces himself to walk calmly go Gaius’ chambers. Maybe Merlin decided to visit him and put his duties on hold.   
Gaius, however, hasn’t seen Merlin the whole day. When Arthur checks with Morgana, he finds out that Gwen has the day off. Chasing his last hope, Arthur hurries down to her house, asking anyone he sees along the way if they know where Merlin is. No one has seen him.  
Arthur bursts into Gwen's small house, glancing frantically around. He sees Merlin immediately, chatting happily with Gwen and Lancelot. What strikes him, though, isn’t that Merlin is apparently shirking his duties – that, Arthur could have gotten over – but the look on Merlin's face. He jumps at the sight of Arthur and looks… afraid. What could Merlin possibly be afraid of?  
“Arthur…” he says. He has that look on his face; that unhappy, discontent look he’s had on and off for weeks now.   
“Merlin, what’s going on?” Arthur asks gently. “I know it’s something. You have to tell me.”  
Gwen grabs Lancelot's hand and the two of them tactfully go for a stroll outside. Merlin is looking at his shoes. Arthur sits down next to him and lifts his chin, forcing Merlin to look at him.   
“Tell me what’s the matter,” he coaxes.  
“No, it’s nothing,” Merlin insists, shaking his head, still trying not to look at Arthur.   
Arthur knows he can’t just let it go anymore, though. He steels himself. If he’s going to hear this, it’ll be better to get it over and done with. “Merlin,” he says in a shaky voice. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I know it’s been a couple of months. Rethinking how you feel about someone after a while in the relationship is perfectly normal. If you don’t – if you don’t love me anymore… well, just tell me. I won’t be angry. Please just tell me, Merlin.”  
He closes his eyes, waiting for the blow, trying to plan how he’s going to survive it.   
Merlin's voice is oddly strangled. “You think I don’t love you anymore?”  
“Isn’t that what you’ve been upset about? Having second thoughts about us and not knowing how to tell me?”  
The next thing knows, he is being hit on the head with a goblet.   
“Ow! What was that for?”  
“For being a stupid, insecure clotpole!” Merlin says loudly. “You thought I didn’t love you?” His hands find Arthur's shoulders and start shaking him. “You prat! Of course I love you, idiot! How could I not?”  
Arthur finally opens his eyes to see Merlin's face a few inches from his own. “You love me?”  
Merlin's annoyance abates as he hears the scared, broken tone of Arthur's voice. His hands pull Arthur close as Merlin embraces him. “Arthur, of course I love you. How could you ever doubt that?”  
“You’ve been acting strange,” Arthur mumbles. “You haven’t been happy. What else was I supposed to think?”  
Merlin sighs, knowing that it’s time to tell him. If Arthur thinks Merlin doesn’t love him, clearly silence isn’t helping anything.  
“I don’t like sharing power,” he blurts out. “I know you’re doing it to make me happy, to make me feel like an equal, but I hate it, Arthur, I really do. Everyone looks at me like I’m something special and they won’t stop bowing. I wish they’d just ignore me like they used to! I don’t know how you stand it, it’s awful!”  
Arthur is silent for a full minute before answering. “That’s why you’ve been unhappy? That’s why you hid today? Just because you don’t like being treated like a king?”  
“I’m sorry,” Merlin mumbles.   
Arthur bursts out laughing. “Merlin, why on earth did you think I’d be upset about that? I did it to make you happy – if it’s making you unhappy instead, then clearly we need to reverse it.”  
“But – I was supposed to help you. So you didn’t have to rule alone.”  
“Merlin, I’ll never be alone as long as I’m with you. Your advice and counsel is always welcome, of course – but if you don’t want to see petitioners or sign papers, there’s no reason why you should. I’m the one who was born to this, after all.”  
“So you don’t mind doing it all on your own?”  
“Of course not,” Arthur says.   
For the first time since his confession, Merlin's face breaks into a wide smile. “Ok.”  
“Ok? So everything’s good? You’re not going to come and hide here again, are you?”  
“Nope,” he says happily. Arthur leans forward and kisses him  
“Well, now that that’s sorted, I should probably get going on some of that paperwork,” he says, and Merlin grimaces guiltily. “You can give me a massage while I work,” Arthur says, grinning. “You’re right, it’ll be much more pleasant this way – now you’ll be free to cater to my every whim when I’m keeping the kingdom running.”  
“I can deal with that,” Merlin whispers, leaning in for another kiss.  
Before their lips meet, Merlin jerks away, his hands on his head.   
“Merlin? Merlin, what’s wrong?” Merlin has never shied away from kissing Arthur; clearly, something is wrong.  
“It’s the nymph,” he says, staring into the distance as though seeing something more than Gwen's kitchen. “She’s using one of her wishes.”  
“What does she want?”  
“There’s something wrong… but I can’t see what. I’m to go to her at once.”  
Arthur surveys Merlin's expression for a moment before getting up. “Ok, let’s go.”  
“You don’t have to come, Arthur. I’m sure I can deal with it myself.”  
“Not a chance,” Arthur says, grabbing Merlin's hand and pulling him outside. Merlin gives up, knowing that Arthur will just follow him anyway. In short order, they are mounted up on two of Camelot’s fastest horses and riding to the spot where Merlin first found the nymph.   
She is waiting for them, looking considerably distressed.  
“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks, dismounting at once.  
“It’s my family,” she says in a tearful voice. “They’ve been taken.”  
“Taken by whom?”  
She looks fearfully around before sighing. “You’d better sit down. There’s a bit of a story to tell.”  
She waits until Merlin and Arthur are seated on a nearby log before beginning. “My name is Nera, and I am part of the Trei Tribe of wood nymphs. We have been at war with the Guhey tribe for a long time – so long that no one even knows why the hostilities started.   
“I am the ruler of my people. I would have peace, but the Guhey insist on attacking us, and we have no choice but to defend ourselves. I’ve done well – under my command, we’ve decimated their forces every time they make an offensive move. Now, they’ve decided to punish me. My daughter and husband were taking while they were sleeping with a note promising that they would suffer before they died.”  
Merlin reaches out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Nera draws back, as though afraid he’ll strike her. Merlin leans back, speaking in a warm, comforting tone. “Where are they being held, Nera?”  
“The Guhey have retreated to the most secure place they know – the caves of Aseti.”  
“Ah.”  
Arthur glances at Merlin's suddenly rather pale face. “What is it?”  
“The caves of Aseti are legendary,” he replies. “Some still contend that they don’t even exist. Gaining entrance is said to be near impossible. Once someone is inside, though, the caves will repel anyone else who goes near them.”  
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. We’ll just have to find a way around that.”  
“The caves repel them in pieces.”  
“Ah,” Arthur mimics Merlin. “Has anyone ever… succeeded in getting into the caves once someone else is already there?”  
“No one who has attempted it has ever lived to tell the tale,” Merlin says. “Gaius told me.”  
“You promised,” Nera says tearfully. “I helped you save your love. You promised you’d grant me three wishes.”  
Arthur is about to tell her exactly where she can stick her stupid wishes, but Merlin speaks first.  
“Yes, of course,” he says wearily. “Come on, Arthur, we’ve got a lot of planning to do if we’re to break into the caves of Aseti.”  
Arthur opens his mouth in outrage, but Merlin is dragging him along. “We’ll do everything we can do save your family,” he calls over his shoulder to Nera.  
She thanks him shakily before disappearing into the trees.   
“Merlin, you can’t seriously be considering doing this,” Arthur hisses.   
“I promised her, Arthur,” he says. “What would you do?”  
“That’s – that’s different.”  
“How is it different?”  
“You could die,” Arthur says angrily. “In fact, it sounds like an almost sure thing. Merlin, you can’t seriously be considering it.”  
“I have to,” he says. “You understand, Arthur – remember when you put your head on that chopping block for Morgause, just because you gave her your word? This is no different.”  
Arthur is struck dumb by Merlin's logic and spends the rest of the ride trying to think up a suitable counter-argument. Merlin, meanwhile, is wondering aloud about strategy.   
“We’ll try talking to them first, of course. Maybe – if we have something they want – they’ll just hand Nera's family over. Otherwise, we’ll have to break in, somehow. There must be a spell somewhere in all Gaius’ books…”  
Arthur is still mouthing silently, the thought of losing Merlin causing his throat to stick. He follows the sorcerer, unwilling to let him out of his sight for a second, lest Merlin decides to sneak off on his own and try to do this himself.   
Merlin spends a couple of hours going through magic books with Gaius. Arthur doesn’t even try to listen in on the conversation; he’s too worried, too busy trying to think of a way to save Merlin. If he could, he’d physically restrain him, but Merlin is more powerful than all of the knights in Camelot put together.   
“Ok, yes, that should work,” Merlin muses. This catches Arthur's attention.   
“What?”  
“Look here,” Merlin says, pointing to a picture in a very old book. “These are the caves of Aseti. They weren’t always like they are now – they were just normal caves, once. A coven of powerful witches enchanted them; it’s the kind of spell that strengthens over time. That’s why they are virtually unassailable now.”  
“So what are you going to do?”  
“See the green light around the entrance of the caves?” Merlin says, pointing to the picture. “That’s because the enchantment is only on the entrance. If we could get inside, we would be fine.”  
“So we need to tunnel underneath and make our own entrance?” Arthur guesses.  
“Oh no, that will never work – the witches put in place wards against that generations ago. No, to get in I’ll need to go back to the time when the caves were ordinary caves. Then, I’ll just walk right in, come back in time, grab Nera's family, go back in time to get out again, and return to the present once we’re safely outside the caves. Easy.”  
“Easy,” Arthur says in a weak voice.  
“Well, it might not be necessary – hopefully they’ll negotiate. Time travel is fraught with possible complications and dangers; it’s actually just a theory so far. No one has yet been powerful enough to actually do it.”  
Arthur is losing confidence in this plan by the second.   
Merlin sees his face and hastens to reassure him. “I’m sure they’ll be reasonable. After all, I’m a powerful sorcerer and you’re the king of Camelot. There’s a lot we can offer then in exchange for Nera's family. It’ll be fine.”  
“I hope so,” Arthur murmurs, not taking his eyes off Merlin. “I really hope so.”

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

“Are you sure about this?” Arthur asks for the tenth time.  
“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin says patiently. “I’ve been through the theory. I’m sure I can do it.”  
“But the risk –”  
Merlin cuts Arthur off with a kiss. “I’ll be fine. You just stay with the horses and be ready to make a quick getaway.”  
Arthur tries to argue some more, but Merlin is already slipping away, into the circle he’s drawn, the one with strange symbols on the outside. Arthur watches helplessly as Merlin starts to chant, his eyes glowing gold.  
As Merlin speaks the words to the spell, his vision starts to flicker. He’d expected it, but it’s still disconcerting. Finally, with one final flicker, the scene changes. It’s almost the same as before, but Merlin can see that it’s a different time. The stone of the caves is much less weathered and the vegetation growing is wildly different. The air is more humid than he is used to, and he wonders how many years in the past he is.  
Merlin takes a tentative step towards the cave entrance, coming out from what used to be the clump of trees that was hiding him and Arthur from view of the front of the cave. Now it’s just a grassy field. He doesn’t feel any tingle of deadly magic, but Merlin still goes slowly, hesitant, wondering if the spell has brought him far enough back.  
The cave is empty, of course – before it was spelled, no one bothered coming to this secluded place. Merlin closes his eyes as he steps over the threshold, but nothing happens. Sighing in relief, he moves further into the cave, not knowing how far from the entrance the protection goes.  
Finally, when he judges himself far enough inside, he closes his eyes and begins to chant the spell.  
The second time is worse than the first. His vision blurs horribly and Merlin sways on the spot as the world seems to spin around him, even though his feet are firmly planted on the ground. There is a confused impression of voices and movement before something hits Merlin hard on the head and everything goes black.  
He wakes up on the hard, cold ground, in the dark. He wants to mutter a spell to bring light, but something stops him. As his head slowly clears, he remembers where he is. The wood nymphs won’t know where he appeared from – after all, materialising in thin air from the future is hardly something anyone is able to guess – so it’s safe to assume that they don’t know for sure he has magic.  
They’ve probably guessed that magic is involved, but for all they know, Merlin could have been teleported directly into the caves by another sorcerer. He knows he should keep his weapon secret for as long as possible. Merlin looks around to find himself in a small cell, but not alone.  
Two figures are hunched in the corner, and Merlin recognises them at once as other wood nymphs. The fact that they are imprisoned like him leaves only one explanation as to who they are.   
“Are you Nera's family?” he asks softly.  
The taller of the figures looks up, his eyes locked with Merlin's. “Who are you?”  
“She sent me to rescue you,” Merlin says softly, glancing around for anyone who could be listening.   
“How did you get in here?”  
“That doesn’t matter. I’m going to get you out. Come here.” Merlin gestures, holding out his hands. The nymph hesitates for only a second before pulling his daughter to her feet and joining their hands with Merlin's.   
“This is going to feel strange, but it’ll be ok,” Merlin says. He doesn’t wait for a response, well aware that guards could find them at any second. He doesn’t know what they did to him while he was unconscious, but he’s not hanging around to find out.  
Merlin can see the nymphs cringe as his eyes glow gold, so he closes them, focusing on unravelling the strands of time, stepping back into the past. His two passengers gasp as the scenery changes. The crumbling walls of the cave are suddenly whole and sharp edged. The entrance is smaller, so much that they have to crawl out of the small cell-like room they are in.  
“Where are we?” Nera's husband asks. “Where are all the guards?”  
“They’re not here right now,” Merlin says, feeling lightheaded. “Come on, we need to go. I’m Merlin, by the way.”  
“Henir,” the nymph says, shaking Merlin's hand vigorously. “And my daughter Yirin.” The little girl smiles shyly at Merlin, holding tightly to her father’s hand.  
“Good to meet you, but we need to go,” Merlin says. His head is spinning and he feels sick. Clearly, time travelling is not without consequences. He leads Henir and Yirin towards the entrance, but both cringe away as they get close.   
“It’s ok,” Merlin says. “It’s safe for now.” When they still hesitate, he says, “Nera is waiting for you. She trusted me to come and get you. I promise, I will get you back to her.”  
Henir keeps Merlin's gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. What do we need to do?”  
“Just follow me.” Merlin leads them towards the entrance, shivering slightly as they leave the confines of the cave. He leads them to the field that he knows is a bunch of trees in the future, where Arthur is waiting for him.   
“Ok, we need to hold hands again. This is the last time, then you’ll be able to get back to Nera,” he says. Henir and Yirin grip his hands tightly as Merlin starts to chant. Something is wrong, though. His head is spinning and his magic is slipping away from him. He is barely aware of someone catching him as his legs give out and his mind is engulfed in blackness.   
Merlin awakes to see Henir’s concerned face hovering inches above his. By glancing around, he sees that they are still in the past – there is not a tree in sight. He grimaces as he pushes himself up on his elbow.   
“What’s going on?” Henir asks, his voice scared. “I don’t recognise this place at all – this is not where we were brought into the caves. Where is Nera?”  
Merlin debates for a moment, but decides that telling Henir the truth won’t do much to calm him. “Sorry,” Merlin mutters. “I just passed out, it’s a magic thing. Come on, let’s get this over and done with.”  
They join hands again and Merlin fights the dizziness as he begins to chant. His vision blurs terribly and he sees strange shapes, like metal carriages, zooming past his eyes with terrible speed. Finally, trees solidify in his vision and Merlin falls forwards into Arthur's waiting arms.   
“Merlin, Merlin are you alright?” Arthur's voice is frantic in his ear.   
“M’fine,” Merlin mutters, still terribly dizzy.  
Arthur's concerned face hovers above his as Arthur brushes Merlin's hair off his clammy face, staring into his wide eyes. “We need to get going,” Arthur says regretfully. “Once the Guhey realise that their prisoners are missing, they won’t be happy.” He glances towards Henir and Yirin. “We have horses for you,” he says, gesturing to them. “We’re taking you back to Nera.”  
Arthur stays close by Merlin's side as they ride, as though expecting him to fall off his horse. Not entirely sure he is wrong, Merlin doesn’t protest. His head is buzzing unpleasantly and he’s finding it hard to concentrate. It does get better, though. After a few hours, the buzzing has diminished greatly, and Merlin smiles wanly at Arthur.  
“Are you alright?” Arthur asks again.   
“I will be,” Merlin says. “It’s… it’s no joke, time travelling.”  
“I’ll say. You were gone for hours. What happened in there?”  
Merlin resigns himself to explaining what happened – at least, everything he remembers. Arthur looks at him worriedly, but doesn’t comment further. Their silence is interrupted by a shriek, and Nera is running towards them, pulling her daughter off her horse, hugging her tightly.   
Henir leaps down and enfolds his family in his arms, whispering soothing words.   
“They didn’t hurt you?” Nera demands, eyeing the two of them closely.   
“I think they were just about to get to that part,” Henir says. “Merlin arrived just in time.”  
Nera swoops down on Merlin and kisses him on each cheek. “I will never be able to thank you enough,” she whispers.   
“I did promise,” Merlin says. “It’s the least I could do – you did help me save Arthur, after all.”  
Nera nods tearfully and turns to her daughter. “Say goodbye, Yirin.”  
The little girl gives a neat curtsy and waves.   
“You have a lovely daughter,” Arthur calls as Nera's family starts to retreat.   
“Of course I do,” she says, smiling over her shoulder. “She’s going to be queen, after all.”

Merlin and Arthur ride back slowly, relishing the fact that they are both still alive. Arthur is oddly quiet and at first Merlin assumes he’s still not happy that Merlin put himself at such huge risk. When Arthur speaks his mind, though, it is not what Merlin was expecting.  
“She’s going to be queen,” he says slowly. “Yirin.”  
Merlin doesn’t know where Arthur is going with this, so he remains silent.  
“Merlin… who will be king after me?” Arthur asks, his eyes wide with worry. “I’ve never really thought about it – I was so happy just to be with you – but there’s no way I’m going to marry some woman I don’t know, no way I’ll be with anyone but you. Yet what happens to succession, then? Who rules after we are both long dead?”  
Merlin tries to comfort Arthur. “It’s a long time before we have to think of any of that,” he says soothingly. “Don’t worry, Arthur, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”  
Arthur continues to look worried, though. Merlin supposes he couldn’t have expected anything else. Arthur takes his duty to Camelot seriously. Merlin tries to distract him with some success. By the time they have reached Camelot, Arthur is smiling again, though the shadow is not completely gone from his eyes.  
Over the next few weeks, Arthur continues to worry about succession. Merlin wishes Arthur had continued not to think about it, but now that Arthur is worrying, nothing will stop him. It really will be years before they need to worry about it, but Arthur continues to torment himself, feeling guilty for putting his own desires above the needs of Camelot, but unwilling to give up Merlin for anything.  
Merlin's nightmares return, as though he needed any clue that everything is not right with Arthur. He tries talking to him, but Arthur is uncommunicative and tense. Finally, Merlin decides that he has to take matters into his own hands. Years away or not, Arthur will insist on worrying about the problem until he has a solution in hand. Merlin doesn’t have a solution – so he’ll need to get one.  
“No, really, Arthur, I want to go alone,” he insists as Arthur hovers close to his horse. “I just want to speak to her. She was such a good friend to me, she deserves privacy.”  
Arthur grimaces, but agrees. Merlin has already told him all about Freya, about what happened between them. Arthur is sceptical about Merlin being able to talk to her – she is dead, after all – but fortunately, his doubt keeps him from questioning Merlin's desire to visit her. Merlin lets him think he just misses her as he sets off.  
Arthur watches him anxiously and Merlin can’t help feeling slightly guilty leaving him alone to his worry. Still, Arthur needs his help, so Merlin heads towards the lake where he left Freya, knowing that if anyone can help him, she can.  
It doesn’t take long to get there. He smiles sadly as memories come to the forefront of his mind. Freya did promise she would see him again when they last said goodbye. He crouches down at the water’s edge. “Freya?” he says softly, not knowing what to expect.  
The water shimmers and he gasps as Freya’s reflection swims before his face.   
“Hello, Merlin,” she says, smiling.  
“Freya,” he breathes.   
“We don’t have much time,” she says, her voice echoing strangely. “Tell me what his troubling you.”  
Merlin doesn’t hesitate, but starts talking at once, telling her everything. Freya smiles as he speaks of Arthur, and even Merlin can hear the tenderness in his own voice. She is quiet as he tells her of Arthur's worries, of his inability to find a solution. Finally, once he has talked himself into silence, Freya smiles tenderly at him.   
“There is a solution to all this, Merlin,” she says. “A really simple one, in fact; one that will move Albion into a future of fairness and prosperity.”  
Merlin leans closer, listening as she outlines the world she sees, the answer to all of Arthur's fears. He feels a smile creeping onto his face.

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin smiles in relief as he pushes his horse faster, eager to get back to Camelot and tell Arthur the good news. Freya’s solution is so simple and fair, he’s surprised he didn’t think of it before. He is so happy and relieved that at first he doesn’t notice that he is straying off course.   
Frowning, he redirects the horse, putting them firmly on the path to Camelot. It is not long, though, before he finds himself heading in a different direction. Merlin redirects the horse again, wondering what’s wrong with him. It doesn’t get better, though, and before he knows it, he’s facing the caves of Aseti.   
Now Merlin knows there is something definitely wrong. Whatever magic is drawing him here, it’s bad news. He doesn’t know if the Guhey are still in there, but even if they aren’t, the caves are incredibly dangerous to go into. He tries to turn the horse around.  
The next thing he knows, Merlin is flat on his face.  
Before he can even try to get back to his feet, the world is spinning and a familiar blurriness is coming over his eyes. He clamps his mouth shut, sure he is not uttering the words, but it doesn’t stop – Merlin is being drawn back in time again.  
The next few minutes are all a blur. He vaguely recognises the world in the past, but when he tries to chant the words to bring him back in time, nothing comes out. Merlin is only aware of a growing desire to enter the caves. He knows they can’t hurt him in the past, but he equally knows that this is a very, very bad idea.  
He resists as hard as he can, but just like before, he finds himself moving in a direction he never intended to take. Merlin steps hesitantly towards the caves, not able to make himself pull back.   
As he stumbles into the caves, the world starts to spin again. Merlin tries to reach for his magic to stop it, but his magic seems out of reach. He staggers into a hard, cold stone wall and falls heavily to the floor.   
Cruel laughter reaches his ears and he realises he is back in the present. As his vision clears, he sees a wood nymph standing before him. Merlin vaguely recognises one of the Guhey, one he only saw him for a few seconds before was knocked out the last time he was here.   
“So, Emrys, you thought you could just steal our prisoners and skip along home, did you?” he asks, staring at Merlin with a look of amusement. “Nera may have her family back, but you will pay the ultimate price for what you did. When you left the prison, you went right through the fabric of my spell – not even time travel can save you from me. I knew you’d be drawn back here eventually. Now, you will get everything you deserve.”  
Merlin reaches once again for his magic, but he is too disorientated to form a proper spell. He just growls incoherently at the nymph. “I won’t be seeing you,” he says, dropping something onto the ground which clangs loudly and slides out of sight. “I’ve put a block on your magic in here – all part of the spell. You’ll be able to magic yourself food and water – wouldn’t want you to die too quickly – but nothing more than that. Enjoy.”  
Merlin makes a wild grab for him, but the nymph skips away, seemingly very pleased with himself. Merlin gets up and staggers after him, but at the entrance he is thrown back my some invisible barrier that the nymph walked through as though it wasn’t there.  
Merlin grunts in pain as he hits the hard stone floor. He spends only a minute getting his breath back before trying again. And again. And again.  
It seems the nymph was as bad as his word. Merlin's magic is good for nothing except conjuring up basic sustenance. Every time he tries to do something more, his vision narrows down to a small tunnel and his head threatens to explode. If he manages to keep up his attempt through the blinding pain in his head, he eventually passes out with nothing except a leftover headache for his trouble.  
Finally, Merlin makes his way back to the room where the nymph left him and collapses on his cloak, which is lying in a puddle on the floor. Exhausted, his eyes start to close, but a flash of light has him sitting up. He reaches over to pull the thing the nymph left from under a protruding rock, realising that it’s a mirror.   
Merlin looks at the mirror perplexedly. He’s not sure how there is light in these caves – it seems to emanate from the very rock – but whatever the source, he can see the mirror perfectly well. Not only can he see, but he can hear. And not himself – Arthur.  
Merlin watches Arthur working at his desk, looking up to speak to one of the knights when there is a knock on the door, calling for supper…  
What will he think when Merlin doesn’t return? Merlin's heart sinks. He knows that the nymph left the mirror not as an act of kindness, but as a final act of torture. Merlin will have to watch Arthur tear Albion apart looking for him, all the while not able to get to him.   
Merlin blinks away tears. There must be a way out of this. Yet even as he tries to think, he realises that the nymph’s plan is watertight. He can’t contact Arthur, can’t get to him. Indeed, even if he did somehow manage to get a message to Arthur, what then? Arthur would only kill himself trying to get into the caves of Aseti, and to no avail – the caves are impregnable, they’d already established as much.   
Merlin allows himself a couple of hours of sleep before restarting his efforts. He gets up feeling distinctly unrested: his old nightmares have returned. If he had hoped Arthur would have a few days of peace before realising that something is wrong, the hope was now dashed.  
Arthur will surely be experiencing the same terrible dreams; they always seem to come up whenever there is some kind of problem with one of them. Merlin watches wearily as Arthur gets ready for bed before throwing himself into his attempts with renewed vigour.   
All he accomplishes is managing to make himself pass out a couple more times. Even with drinking copious amounts of water, the headaches are slow to leave. Finally, when Merlin sees that Arthur is asleep, he lets himself rest as well.  
Merlin is in a dark room. He knows Arthur is in a dark room next to him, but he can’t see or hear him. He only knows that Arthur is in great danger. Merlin can’t see his own hand in front of his face, but he pounds blindly on the walls, trying desperately to find a way out to Arthur.  
As he runs around the small room, the walls start retracting, crushing him. He knows that they are crushing not only him but Arthur as well. He screams and yells, but no one hears him, no one sees him.   
He is all alone in the dark.  
Merlin wakes up yelling his head off, calming down only when he realises that his is not the only voice he hears.  
Arthur's image in the mirror sits bolt upright in bed, finally managing to calm his yells. A servant rushes in, concerned, but Arthur waves her off. He gets up and looks out of the window, the faint moonlight shining off his chest. Merlin knows that look. Arthur realises there’s something wrong. He just doesn’t know what yet.  
Arthur calls the servant back. “Get Leon and Lancelot in here now,” he says.  
“N – now, sire? In the middle of the –”  
“Yes, now,” Arthur snaps.   
Merlin tries with everything he has to somehow reach through the mirror and contact Arthur, but of course, the nymph would have made sure this was impossible. He is forced to watch as Arthur briefs the confused, sleepy pair of knights.   
“Merlin's in trouble,” he says bluntly. “I want you to take a search party out right away. Head east. I’ll lead one going north myself. We’ll spread out and cover all the land around his route.”  
“Sire, how do you know?” Lancelot asks hesitantly.  
“I know, alright?” Arthur snaps. “We ride in the hour.”  
“Sire.”  
Lancelot and Leon bow their heads before backing out, exchanging worried looks. Next, Arthur wakes Morgana and explains every bit of his dream to her, telling her about how he and Merlin have had the nightmares for ages, always when there is something not right with one of them.   
“Will you try to find him? In your dreams?” Arthur asks anxiously.  
“Arthur, I don’t really control what I see… but I’ll try, of course I will,” she says quickly, seeing the expression on his face. Merlin groans. This is going to kill Arthur. As far as he’s concerned, Merlin will just have disappeared off the face of the planet.  
He lies back down, thinking. Clearly, his current approach isn’t working. He needs to try something else. Maybe, if he could somehow get a message to Arthur, that would help. He doesn’t see how it would help, but it’ll be a start, certainly a smaller and easier step than escaping.   
Merlin tries everything he knows, but nothing seems to work. Several times, he’s tempted to throw the mirror away, but he can’t bring himself to let go of even a small connection to Arthur. So he is forced to watch his king go mad with worry for him, tearing the kingdom apart looking, but there is no sigh anywhere.  
Neither of them is sleeping well, still plagued by nightmares. By day, Merlin tries everything he can think of, but each time it just gets harder to force himself to try to use magic and subject himself to the pain that comes with it when he knows it’s hopeless.  
Finally, after what must have been a week of hell for both of them, Merlin has an idea. Clearly, spending the days trying to use magic isn’t having any positive effect. What if he used the nights, instead? If he could manage to break out of the cave in his dream, maybe he could speak to Arthur, tell him what’s going on? It’s a long short, but it’s worth a try.  
So that night, Merlin lies down, ready for the nightmare. It starts as it usually does, and it is a minute before he remembers he’s supposed to be trying to use magic – it just never seems to occur to him in the dream.   
He whispers a spell and to his surprise and relief, a light flares up in his palm. Merlin points at the wall and shouts an incantation. The wall shudders, but doesn’t break. With the light in his hand, Merlin can see exactly when the walls start to move inwards, intent on crushing him.   
He shouts the spell again and again, making the walls shudder more each time, but now they are pressing in on him and it is getting hard to breathe.  
Fighting panic, with his last breath, Merlin whispers the spell one last time.  
Everything shatters. The walls fall away into stone rubble and Merlin staggers to his feet. There, standing before him with a look of shock on his face, is Arthur.  
“Arthur!” Merlin runs into his arms, kissing him fiercely.  
“Merlin! Merlin, listen to me, you’ve gone missing and I can’t find you. I need you to tell me where you are.” Arthur's hands are strong on his arms, but his eyes are frantic.   
“I’m in the caves of Aseti.” Merlin hears Arthur's gasp, but doesn’t wait, feeling his body trying to wake him up. “Listen to me, Arthur, you can’t just go running to the caves. You need a plan. They’ll kill you if you just try to break in. Get a proper plan to get me out, don’t throw your life away. Promise me, Arthur.”  
The dream is starting to blur and Merlin can feel himself waking up. Arthur starts to fade until all Merlin can make out of him is his face. His last words echo in Merlin's ears.   
“I’ll find a way to get you out, Merlin. I promise.

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

“Gaius!” Arthur bursts into the physician’s chambers, his face flushed and his hair in disarray, looking like a complete madman. “I know where Merlin is,” he says breathlessly.   
“Sire? You have found him?”  
“Yes – no – well sort of,” Arthur says, starting to pace. “I saw him – well, he found me. In a dream. He’s in the caves of Aseti.”  
Gaius is looking at Arthur as though doubting his sanity. Arthur sighs in frustration and throws himself onto a work bench. “He found me, Gaius. We’ve shared nightmares on and off for months. He told me he’s trapped in the caves. I have to get him out!”  
It takes almost an hour for Arthur to convince Gaius that he’s not mad and that the dream was real. Arthur even brings in Morgana to back his story. Finally, Gaius is forced to agree that Arthur is right, even though he hardly wants to. “The caves are impregnable, sire,” he says dully. “There’s no way anyone is getting into them alive.”  
“Merlin did,” Arthur says stubbornly.   
“Merlin is a very powerful sorcerer. I fear that if he can’t get himself out, no one will be able to do it.”  
“Let me make this very clear, Gaius,” Arthur says, levelling him with a stern look. “I am going after Merlin no matter what. I came to you because I hoped you might be able to help me do it more safely, but if you can’t, I’ll leave at once.”  
“Sire, it’s too – ”  
“This is not a discussion, Gaius.”  
Gaius sighs and starts pulling books down. “I know of no way to breach the caves of Aseti… which means we’ve got a lot of research to do.”  
Arthur, Lancelot, Gwen, Morgana and Gaius all retreat to Gaius’ chambers and bury themselves in books. Servants come and go bringing food. Arthur goes up to Merlin's room, curling up on his bed. He’s not sure if it makes it better or worse; being in Merlin's room makes him feel closer, which seems to carry equal parts of comfort and pain.  
Arthur starts going cross eyed as he reads. Every scrap of paper that Gaius has that could be even remotely related to the caves of Aseti has been brought down from its shelf. Unfortunately, it’s a lot of paper to get through, and Arthur's panic is making it hard for him to think. What’s happening to Merlin in those caves, all trapped and alone?  
He shakes his head, trying to shake away his fears as he keeps reading. He has read the same sentence three times before it finally sinks into his brain.  
The route to the caves of Aseti is closed to all but the ones inside it, leaving only a pathway of the seeker’s deepest fears. Many have tried to navigate this treacherous road, but only death has found all who attempted it. Legends say that the witches wanted to leave a way for them to get in, but only they who have been trained their whole lives can face their deepest fears and live through it. Some say, if the need is great enough, another can make it through, but alas, these seem to be only legends.  
Arthur reads the paragraph twice before jumping up. “Gaius!” he calls. Rather than waiting, he grabs the book and tumbles down the stairs. “Look at this,” he says eagerly.  
Gaius reads the paragraph, his face darkening with each word. “It sounds like a death sentence, sire,” he says slowly.  
“It sounds like it might be a death sentence,” Arthur corrects. “Trying to get into the caves directly is definitely a death sentence, but at least this way it sounds like there is a chance.”  
Gaius opens his mouth to reply, but Arthur is already out of the room, calling for horses. He jogs back to Gaius as soon as the orders have been passed on. “Gaius, do you know where I could find this pathway?”  
“Sire… it sounds like it’s not so much a physical pathway as a magical one. You’ll need to find it with the use of magic, and since Merlin is in the cave, he is unable to help.”  
Arthur, however, isn’t listening. He’s starting at Morgana pleadingly.   
“Arthur… I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll try, of course I will.”  
“Then let’s go!” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the room, leaving three worried faces behind them.   
It takes a little less than two days to reach the caves, though it feels like much longer. Arthur has kept having nightmares, but Merlin hasn’t been able to break through the walls again; Arthur is all alone in the dark, crushing cave.  
“Ok, now what?” he asks Morgana, staring at the cave entrance, fighting the urge to run straight at it.   
“I’m not entirely sure,” she says. “Um… why don’t we sit down? I’ll see if I can sense the path or something.”  
Her eyes have barely been closed for a minute before they pop open again. “Oh,” she says, a little breathless. “Well, it’s certainly easier to find than I thought it would be.”  
She frowns as Arthur smiles encouragingly. “That doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to use. I think Merlin's helping – somehow, he must know what we’re doing and have found a way to make the path stand out more so that I can see it.”  
“I thought he couldn’t do magic in there?”  
“I don’t know, Arthur,” she says, running her hands through her hair. “Maybe he’s found some way to do it through his dreams – but honestly, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you get going before the path decides to disappear.”  
“Ok – then where is this path?”  
“Hold on.”  
Morgana closes her eyes and starts muttering under her breath. Arthur gasps as a long strip of green light appears out of nowhere, forming a kind of path along the ground.   
“Morgana, that goes straight to the cave’s entrance,” he points out. “We’re trying to avoid that – sudden death and all.”  
“No, it doesn’t,” she snaps, the stress of the situation making her sound sharper than usual. “It isn’t totally in this world. It just starts here, but it’ll lead you to a different dimension well before you’ve touched the cave’s entrance in this world.”  
Arthur purses his lips, not entirely sure he’s understanding her.   
“Look, do you want to rescue Merlin or not?”  
The words are all he needs. “Don’t wait for more than three days,” he says. “If I don’t return, you are to assume the throne.”  
“You will come back, Arthur,” Morgana says threateningly. “You had better.”  
He leans over to kiss her on the cheek before stepping onto the path.   
At once, everything else disappears and Arthur is surrounded by green light. He steps hesitantly forward, but when nothing jumps out at him, he picks up the pace. He has no idea where he’s going other than forward, to the end of the path. As he walks, the green gets darker and darker until it seems he is some kind of long, black tunnel.  
“Arthur.”  
Arthur spins around, his heart in his throat. “Merlin!”  
He rushes forward, but before he can touch Merlin, the sorcerer is suddenly three feet back from him. Arthur advances again, but yet again finds himself inexplicably apart from Merlin.  
“Please help me, Arthur,” Merlin says. He’s pale and shaking, and it looks like he’s having trouble breathing. A strange light seems to emanate from him, making him the brightest thing in the dark tunnel.  
“I’m going to get you out, Merlin,” Arthur says. “Just come with me.”  
He holds out his hand and Merlin steps hesitantly towards him. As soon as their skin touches, Merlin cries out in pain and jerks his hand away. Arthur gasps in horror as he sees a bright burn on Merlin's palm. It doesn’t stop there. The burn spreads, consuming Merlin's body.  
“Merlin!” Arthur tries to go to him, to help him, but his touch only makes the burn spread faster. Merlin is screaming in pain, writhing on the floor. “Help me, Arthur,” he begs.  
Arthur drops to his knees, his hands fluttering desperately over Merlin, but there is nothing he can do. Tears drip from his face and burn Merlin's skin like acid when they do. “What do I do?” he cries desperately.   
“Help me,” Merlin pleads.  
“How, Merlin, tell me how!”  
But Merlin's eyes are fluttering closed, his whole body burned up. Arthur yells for help, not knowing who he’s calling, but no help comes. As he watches, Merlin's body disintegrates into ash before his eyes.   
“Merlin...” Arthur can’t move or breathe. Every cell in his body is frozen in terror, because Merlin can’t be gone, he can’t. Arthur doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be able to move again. He failed Merlin. What else is there for him but to sit here until his body finally fails him and he goes to join Merlin in the afterlife?  
As though in a dream, the words from the book come back to Arthur. A pathway of the seeker’s deepest fears.  
His deepest fear is losing Merlin. Could it be…? Arthur forces himself to his feet. If there is even a chance that Merlin isn’t really dead, that what he saw was just a product of his deepest fears, he has to keep going.  
He staggers along the path, his mind still in a daze. He doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him until they are almost upon him.   
“Morgana?”  
She is panting, her eyes wide and scared. “Arthur! Arthur, a messenger just came. Camelot has fallen!”  
“What?” he says blankly. That doesn’t make any sense.  
“There was an army – they had a dragon – the knights couldn’t hold them off. The citadel is in ruins, everything is burning. Arthur, you have to come back.”  
Arthur has already turned around and is hurrying after her. The passage seems to have others leading off from the main one that he hadn’t noticed before. Morgana, instead of sticking to the main passage they came down, veers off to one on the left. “Morgana, wait. That isn’t the way out.”  
“Yes it is, Arthur, come on! Camelot is dying and the people need their king.”  
Arthur jerks forward, but stops himself. “You’re not Morgana.”  
“What? Arthur, we don’t have time for this!”  
“No,” he says, taking a step back. “You’re trying to trick me, to lead me into a maze where I’ll never find my way out, like before when I almost lost my mind and lost the will to live. I need to find Merlin – leave me alone, wraith!”  
At Arthur's words, Morgana disappears into a wisp of smoke and he hurries onwards, feeling sick.   
“Arthur.”  
Arthur closes his eyes and doesn’t turn. “Leave me alone, father.”  
“I’m so disappointed in you, Arthur. So very disappointed. You have flouted my decrees, defied old traditions and brought Camelot to ruin. I’m ashamed to even call you my son.”  
“No,” Arthur growls, pushing past the figure who isn’t his father.   
“Arthur!”   
Merlin is screaming in the distance, clearly in pain. Arthur shuts his eyes and stumbles blindly forward. The screams and taunts of his deepest fears fill his ears despite his attempt to shut them. Arthur screws his eyes closed, wishing only for the terror to end. He stumbles and can’t get up again. Uther taunts him for his weakness.  
Shaking and close to passing out, Arthur gets onto his hands and knees and starts to crawl.

Merlin paces the cave. He can’t believe Arthur would do something so dangerous – well, yes, of course he can believe it, but still! If he thought he could stop Arthur, he would have – but Morgana would have found the path eventually and by helping uncover it, he hopes he made it just a little safer.  
Merlin bites his nails, glaring at the mirror. It is blank; as soon as Arthur stepped onto the path, he disappeared off it.   
There is a choked, howling sound from behind him and Merlin spins around. Arthur falls forward, clawing his way seemingly out of thin air with a greenish tint.   
“Arthur!” Merlin rushes to him, but Arthur cringes away.   
“Not you, not you,” he mutters.  
Merlin's heart breaks as he imagines what Arthur must have suffered to get here. “It’s me, Arthur,” he says, wrapping his arms around the king’s shaking body and kissing him gently on the lips. “It’s me. Come on, we need to get out of here – now that you’ve defeated the terrors of the path, it will only remain open a while longer.”  
Arthur mumbles something incoherent and Merlin pulls his arm over his shoulder, hauling Arthur to his feet. Together, they stagger back along the greenly lit path. No terrors jump out at them – Arthur has fought enough fears for both of them, and for now, the path remains mercifully clear.  
It seems only a short time later when they are stumbling into the bright sunlight of the patch of trees where the path started.  
There is a shriek and Morgana throws herself onto both of them. “You’re alive, you’re alive,” she murmurs, laughing and wiping tears away at the same time.   
Merlin gently disengages from her and helps lower Arthur to the ground. “I knew you’d come for me,” he says, his face seeming to glow with love.  
“Always,” mumbles Arthur.

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

“We should go,” Morgana says. “Everyone in Camelot will be worried sick.”  
At the word ‘Camelot’, Arthur flinches and Merlin glares at Morgana. “Arthur's been through a lot – give him a break.” He turns back to Arthur, his voice much more gentle. “Arthur? Are you ok?”  
“Is Camelot ok?” he asks, dread in his voice.   
“Of course it is,” Merlin says soothingly. “You’ve only been gone a few days, your knights will take care of Camelot for you.”  
Arthur glances at Morgana, and she nods at him, confirming Merlin's words. “Do you think you’re able to travel?” Merlin asks.  
“Of course.” Arthur makes to get up, but staggers sideways into Merlin.   
“He didn’t get – I don’t know – caught by any magic in the cave, did he?” Morgana asks anxiously. “We’re not going to have to go chasing after and rescuing him next, right?”  
“No,” Merlin says, “he’s just exhausted. Can you imagine facing all of your worst fears all at once? It can hardly have been easy.” He smiles and pats Arthur's head tenderly. Arthur allows Merlin to help him onto his horse, and Merlin stays close by his side for the rest of the journey, ready to catch his king if he falls.  
Word of their return spreads quickly through the city and people flock around to see for themselves, but Merlin hustles Arthur to his rooms for a good long sleep as quickly as possible. Thankfully, the caves of Aseti didn’t seem to do any lasting damage to either of them, for after a few days, Arthur is as good as new.  
Merlin doesn’t waste any time telling him about Freya’s plan. “We’ll let the people decide who rules them,” he explains. “You’ll select a couple of candidates who you think would make good leaders. Then, when you decide to step down, all the people of the land will write the name of their chosen leader on a piece of paper – we’ll have scribes for those who can’t write.  
“The papers are dropped into great barrels and counted. Whoever’s name appears the most will be the next king. And maybe the other candidates can be on the council.”  
Arthur's face lights up in a wide smile, as Merlin knew it would. “That’s – that’s amazing, Merlin! Why didn’t I think of that before?”  
“Because you’re a dollophead,” Merlin says, neatly dodging Arthur's kick.   
They spend the next few hours discussing anti-cheating measures, general procedures and estimating how many scribes they’ll need. Finally, the weight of worry over succession is lifted off Arthur's chest.

Arthur shuffles the papers on his desk absently, trying to sound like he’s working so that Merlin doesn’t turn and catch him staring. Merlin is busy making the bed with his back to Arthur. Arthur still isn’t entirely comfortable with Merlin acting like a servant, but Merlin was adamant that he not get another.   
Arthur has other people do the more cumbersome tasks, like mucking out his stables and polishing his armour, but dressing him, filling his bath, along with anything else that happens in his chambers, Merlin is still in charge of – though they do usually have a servant bring them breakfast in bed.  
Merlin's pale skin shines slightly in the light, rippling as he moves. Arthur watches, mesmerized as his long fingers neatly tuck the blanket under the pillows. His mind flicks to the thing he’s been thinking about for weeks now – ever since they got back from the caves of Aseti. He looks at Merlin, but his eyes dart away. Even thinking about it, his hands are starting to sweat.  
“Arthur? Is it ok if I run an errand for Gaius?” Merlin asks. “He wants some herbs, but they’re far away, and he’s really not as young as he used to be – I said I’d get them for him.”  
“Of course, you know you don’t have to ask,” Arthur says.  
“Well, I guess old habits die hard.”  
Arthur chuckles, waving Merlin out with a cheery, “See you at dinner!”  
He goes to stand by the window, watching until he is sure that Merlin has left before donning a cloak and – with an expression appropriate for a man marching into a deadly battle – he heads for the lower town.  
Arthur keeps his hood up and his face down, not wanting to be recognised just yet. It’ll probably be unavoidable eventually, but he can at least maintain his anonymity for as long as possible. He quickly finds the shop he’s looking for – one frequented primarily by women, selling jewellery and other shiny trinkets.  
Arthur goes in, wincing as the bell on the door tinkles behind him. The lady at the counter looks up at him suspiciously. Arthur sighs and pulls back his hood.   
“Your Majesty,” she gasps, dropping into a hasty curtsy.   
“Just Arthur, please,” he says, trying to put her at ease.   
“Of course, my – Arthur. What can I do for you?” She looks flustered, but pleased all the same that the king himself has come into her store.   
“What’s your name?”  
“Bethany, my lo – I mean, Arthur.”  
“Well, Bethany, I need some help…” Arthur trails off, his face going red. Come on, Arthur, pull yourself together! he reprimands himself. You’ve faced down dragons. Don’t be a bloody coward.  
“I’m looking for a ring,” he says quickly, before he can lose his nerve.   
“Of course, sire. You’ll see, I have a good collection, some of them quite rare,” she says, leading him over to a table.   
“No,” Arthur says. “Not those. I want – an engagement ring.”  
Bethany smiles knowingly. “Of course, sire.”  
Arthur rolls his eyes as she turns to lead him to a different display – Arthur is hardly a difficult name to remember; how hard can it be to say?  
Arthur balks at the wide selection of rings before him. How is he supposed to know which one Merlin will like?   
Bethany sees his expression of panic and nods knowingly – Arthur supposes it’s not uncommon for her customers.   
“There are a variety of styles here,” she says, “but I think this one would be particularly suitable. Merlin has such beautiful long fingers, this will really suit him.” She points to a row of delicate golden rings.   
Arthur gulps. He hardly makes his relationship with Merlin a secret, but finding out that strangers know all about it is a little disconcerting. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised – Merlin is such a blabbermouth, and makes friends so easily…  
“Ok,” he says, relieved. “Um… do you think any one in particular is good?”  
Bethany chuckles as she surveys the rings. “All would suit him well, sire.” She sees the worried look Arthur shoots the rings, as though they are about to bite him, and continues. “In truth, it’s not the ring that matters – it’s the promise behind it. You could give him a piece of bark and he’d treasure it because of what it means.”  
“But I want him to like it!” Arthur protests.  
“He will, dear, he will,” Bethany says, patting his arm, seeming to forget that he’s the king as her motherly instincts kick in.   
Arthur leans forward and examines the rings. They all look pretty much the same to him. One in particular catches his eye, though. A thin circlet with a tiny dragon on the top, made of what looks to be rubies. Arthur grins as he thinks of the double symbolism – Arthur Pendragon, and Merlin, the dragon lord.  
“That one,” he says firmly.  
“A good choice, sire,” Bethany says, plucking the ring from the shelf and putting it into a small, finely made black box.   
Arthur pays her at least double what she’s asking, very grateful for her guidance, and shoves the ring deep into his pocket before heading up to Camelot.  
“I trust that you will be discrete?” he asks on his way out.  
“Of course, sire,” Bethany says, blushing. “In this business, discretion is often essential.” She eyes her engagement rings fondly before waving Arthur out.   
As soon as he gets back to his chambers, he shoves the thing deep under his mattress and goes to sit at his desk, trying to act normally.  
When Merlin comes back, Arthur panics again. How is he supposed to ask him? Does he lead up to it, or go straight in? What if Merlin says no?  
That thought has Arthur nervously tapping his foot against the chair as he bites his lip.   
“Really, Arthur, what’s wrong with you?” Merlin asks, looking up from the book he’s reading.  
“Nothing,” Arthur says, his voice a bit higher than usual. He takes a large gulp of wine, but it does nothing to soothe him. I’ll ask him tomorrow, he promises himself.  
Arthur tries to work himself up to it all day, even going so far as to invite Merlin for an afternoon ride and picnic in the forest. Every time he opens his mouth, though, no words come out. What if Merlin hates the ring? What if it doesn’t fit? He should have measured Merlin's fingers before he bought it… what if Merlin says no?  
It is that thought that keeps gluing his mouth shut and they eventually leave having had a good time, though with a thoroughly bemused Merlin, who can’t work out what has Arthur so jumpy.  
After a third day of this, Arthur decides it’s no good. He needs help.  
He gets rid of Merlin by sending him off to have lunch with Lancelot and Gwen – that should take hours. He slowly makes his way to Morgana's chambers, the little black box secure in his pocket. He pauses outside Morgana's chambers, eyeing her door handle as it it’s a snake that could strike him at any second.  
Finally, he squashes his nerves and knocks on the door.   
“Come in!”  
Arthur shuffles in, eyeing Morgana wearily.   
“Arthur,” she says, gesturing for him to sit down. Arthur sits, biting his lip.   
“Arthur? What is it?” Morgan asks, looking curiously at him. Arthur opens his mouth, but again, his voice betrays him. Instead, he simply takes out the black box, opens it, and places it on the table before her.   
“Why Arthur, I’m flattered,” Morgana says, her hand on her heart.  
Arthur feels himself blushing furiously. “It’s not for you.”  
“Of course not. The question is, why are you showing this to me instead of Merlin?”  
“I – I don’t exactly know how… I mean, I want it to be perfect, he needs to understand how much he – I need to – what if he says no?”  
Morgana's expression softens. “He won’t say no, Arthur. Now don’t worry, leave this to me. You go distract Merlin and don’t come back until nightfall. When you come, send him to Gaius’ chambers – I’ll have Gwen meet him there – and I’ll meet you in yours.”  
“What –? ”  
“Leave it to me,” Morgana says cheerfully, pushing him out of the room, calling for Gwen as Arthur leaves.  
Arthur goes to find Merlin at Gwen's and sits with them, trying to make casual conversation. Only minutes after he has sat down, a messenger arrives with an urgent summons for Gwen from the lady Morgana. Arthur tries to look confused as she gets up and disappears for the rest of the afternoon.   
Arthur tries to act normal as he and Merlin sit and chat with Lancelot. Judging by the strange looks Merlin is shooting him, he’s not managing very well. Finally, when the sky has darkened, they say goodbye and head back for the castle.  
“Merlin, Gwen wants to see you – she’s in Gaius’ chambers,” Arthur says.   
“How do you know that? We haven’t seen Gwen since she left earlier.”  
“Oh – um – Lancelot told me as we were leaving. He says Gwen's been having some health problems and she wanted moral support when going to Gaius to sort them out.”  
Merlin's suspicious look turns to one of concern and Arthur's stomach twinges with guilt as Merlin runs off. He hurries to his own chambers, wondering what Morgana's plan is.  
When he walks in, he almost turns around to walk out, sure he has got the wrong room.   
His chambers are gone, hidden under layers of white and pink silk, every surface covered in red and pink rose petals. There are giant bouquets of flowers everywhere and garlands of the things hanging from every available surface. Ribbons are wrapped around the bedposts and every other uncovered piece of wood there is.   
“Morgana – what have you done?” Arthur splutters, his heart going into overdrive.  
“I told you I’d sort it out,” she says, smiling smugly, as though this monstrosity is some kind of victory. “Now you just get yourself and your box over there,” she says, pointing, “and wait for Merlin. There’s supper and wine for you – though I expect you may be wanting the bed first,” she grins, pointing to a jar of oil on the nightstand. Arthur feels his face going the colour of the darkest of the rose petals.  
“Morgana… this is… insane.”  
“This is for Merlin, Arthur, not you. He’ll love it, you’ll see.”  
Morgana slips out before Arthur can utter a single threat, and he’s left alone in a giant flower explosion, waiting.  
He hears Merlin and Gwen coming from all the way down the passage – Merlin is complaining loudly about her hands over his eyes. He quiets as Gwen pushes him into the room and he smells all the flowers. Gwen gives Arthur a look, as though asking him if he’s ready.  
He shakes his head frantically, but Gwen just smiles and takes her hands off Merlin's eyes, slipping out and quietly closing the door behind her.  
Merlin's eyes widen as he takes in the room. He opens his mouth to question, but then his eyes find Arthur, and he goes silent.  
Arthur is frozen. The words won’t come – but there is such hope in Merlin's eyes, he has to…  
Slowly, he gets down to one knee, opening the box. All of the grand speeches he envisioned fly out of his mind and he simply speaks from his heart. “Merlin, I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honour of marrying me?”  
Merlin has dropped to his knees in front of Arthur, tears glistening on his cheeks – but he is smiling from ear to ear. “Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, of course, you prat. Yes.”

To be continued 

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	14. Chapter 14

The kiss is sweet, mingled with tears and laughter.  
Merlin breaks away to look at Arthur, still entwined in his arms. “You were actually worried I’d say no, weren’t you?”  
“Well, um…”  
Merlin kisses him on the nose, laughing. “Clotpole.”  
He gets up and pulls Arthur to his feet, looking around at his chambers in wonder. “This is amazing, Arthur,” he says, gesturing at the rose petals and silk strewn around the room. “Morgana really outdid herself.”  
“I should have known you’d like it,” Arthur mutters. “You’re such a girl, Merlin.”  
Merlin ignores him; he’s eyeing Arthur's bed, which is mercifully free of rose petals. When he looks back at his king, there is a glint in Merlin's eyes. “I love you,” he says. Then he pushes Arthur onto the bed and leans forward to kiss him.

Morgana is in her element, bossing around everyone from the knights to the serving girls. Business at Camelot seems to have come to a standstill in preparation for the wedding. Arthur wanted it to be a quiet affair, but Morgana wouldn’t hear of it. Now, he can’t walk through the courtyard without a blush creeping up his neck, watching the extravagant spectacle forming before his eyes.  
Merlin has locked himself in Arthur's chambers – hiding, no doubt, from Gwen, who is has been trying to force Merlin to try on his clothes for the wedding for weeks.   
Arthur comes in to see Merlin curled up on their bed, reading again. “You know, the wedding is tomorrow,” he says. “What if your clothes don’t fit? You really should let Gwen have her way.”  
“She took my measurements!” Merlin protests.   
Arthur just chuckles and throws himself onto the bed next to Merlin, batting the book away to give himself full access to Merlin's neck.   
Merlin hums appreciatively for a minute, but suddenly stiffens.  
“What?” Arthur draws back, alarmed to see how pale Merlin has suddenly gotten.  
“It’s Nera,” he whispers. “Her second wish.”  
Arthur's heart sinks. The last time she needed their help… well, it was hardly pleasant for either of them. He glances longingly out at Morgana's preparations, suddenly feeling rather attached to them.   
“I think we’ll have to postpone the wedding,” Merlin says softly.

“Alright, Nera, this had better be good,” Arthur says. Merlin shoots him a sharp look, but Arthur can’t help being annoyed. In one more day, he was going to be married to the most wonderful man in the entire world, and now Nera's interrupting that plan; of course he’s not happy.  
“I need your help,” she says steadily.  
“Yes, we figured as much,” Arthur grouches, but Merlin shushes him.   
“What is it Nera? Is your family safe?”  
“My family is fine… for now. It is everyone else’s family that I’m worried about.”  
“What’s the problem? What do you need me to do?”  
Nera gestures for Merlin and Arthur to sit down on the forest floor. “Ever since you saved my family, I have been uneasy. We beat the Guhey that one time, but they will not stop. It is not just my family, but all of my people who are at risk every day.” She draws herself up and takes a deep breath. “I want you to give me absolute power over all of the wood nymphs – my people and the Guhey both.”  
“What do you mean?” Merlin asks, genuinely confused. “There’s no way to do that.”  
Nera simply hands him a very old looking piece of bark with words in a foreign language scribbled over it. Merlin starts to read, and his eyebrows draw further down by the second.  
“It will give me irresistible power,” Nera explains. “All wood nymphs will be forced to obey my command, whether they want to or not. I can command peace, and it will be so.”  
Merlin just looks at her, his face blank.  
“It needs to be done at the full moon,” she continues. “That is in two weeks. I suggest you take time to prepare whatever you need to.”  
She makes to get up, but Merlin starts making a choking sound before bursting into speech. “Nera, you can’t possibly ask this! Give you absolute power? No one should have that power, it’s not right. What if you go crazy? What if you become a tyrant? I can’t do this…”  
“You can and you will,” she says coolly. “I have your word.” Her face softens a bit. “Merlin, I do not ask this for personal gain. I wish only to bring peace and prosperity to my people. With the absence of war, the Guhey will prosper, too.”  
“I – I’ll have to… come back. At full moon,” Merlin says. “Meet me here.”  
“I will be here.”  
She turns and slips into the trees, leaving a stunned Merlin and Arthur staring at her back.  
“You aren’t seriously considering doing it?” Arthur asks.  
Merlin shakes his head, not in denial, but rather in confusion. “I don’t know. I gave her my word that I’d grant her three wishes – if it wasn’t for her, you’d be dead, Arthur. And she only wants to bring peace, but…”  
“But absolute power goes to people’s heads,” Arthur finishes for him.  
“Come on,” Merlin sighs. “Let’s get back to Camelot. We can think what to do there.”  
The ride back to Camelot is silent, and when they arrive, Arthur takes it upon himself to tell Morgana the bad news, that the wedding is postponed, at least until after the full moon. Merlin, meanwhile, goes to talk to Gaius.  
The next few days are a blur of arguments, research, and more arguments. Try as he might, Merlin can’t quite convince himself to do it, no matter what he’s promised Nera. If he creates a monster…  
A week has passed before Morgana finally comes to see him. “Merlin.”  
He jumps as she comes up behind him.  
“Morgana,” he says, squinting at her through tired eyes.   
She sits down without waiting for an invitation, fixing him with a penetrating stare. “Merlin, I’ve been watching you. You haven’t found a solution, have you?”  
“I don’t think there is one,” he says hopelessly. “I’ve been trying to find a way to end the war without doing as Nera asks, but really, I don’t see any other way.”  
Morgana hesitates, before plunging in. “Merlin, do you remember that… that night?”  
Merlin stiffens. “We promised never to speak of it again.”  
“Yet now me must,” Morgana says steadily. “I think Nera needs you to do for her what you did for me.”  
“Morgana, that nearly killed you! There’s no way I’m doing it again, even if Nera does agree to it!”  
“What other choice do you have?”  
Merlin just shakes his head wordlessly. Morgana squeezes his shoulder. “You should speak to Arthur about it. He needs to know.”  
She leaves before Merlin has managed to collect his whirling thoughts.   
“Arthur?” Arthur opens his eyes groggily.   
“Merlin, it’s the middle of the night.”  
“I need to tell you something.”  
Merlin's grave tone has Arthur sitting up in bed at once. “What is it?”  
Merlin just bites his lip.   
“Merlin, what is it? You can tell me.”  
“I promised Morgana I’d never speak of it,” he says softly. “I would never break my word… only she came to me just now. Told me to tell you, told me I’d have to do it again. I don’t know if I can, Arthur…”  
“Stop, stop. Merlin, take a deep breath and tell me what you’re going on about.”  
He does as Arthur instructs and takes his hands before beginning. “Morgana was… losing herself. She was having dreams… she saw what she was becoming Arthur, well before your father died. She was terrified, terrified she’s become the monster she fights. I – I had to help her.”  
“What did you do?” Arthur's voice is barely above a whisper.  
“A spell,” Merlin whispers back. “There was an old spell – a bind on her power. She didn’t want to be able to use her magic for evil – so I made sure of it. The spell leaves her magic alone while she uses it for good, but as soon as she starts using it for evil, her magic is cut off and she has no more power than a commoner.”  
Arthur absorbs this relatively quickly, shoving away and shock at Merlin's revelation – not to mention the fact that he kept this from him – away for later. “She wants you to do that to Nera. Give her the power, but only if she’ll use it for good.”  
Merlin nods reluctantly.  
“Well… why not? It sounds like a good idea.”  
“Arthur, it’s not that simple. Having your power bound… it nearly killed Morgana. I still remember her screams… Even if Nera does agree, she may not survive the process. I – I’m not sure if I can do it.”  
“What if you – I don’t know – bound the power before you gave it to her? Morgana's magic is in her, but you’ll be giving Nera the power over her people. What if you gave it to her already bound? Surely, it wouldn’t hurt her then?”  
Merlin is silent for a moment before jumping up, optimism blazing in his eyes. “I need to go talk to Gaius!” he says, bounding out of the room. Arthur flops back onto his pillows, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Nera. Glad you’re here.”  
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says. “Part of me didn’t think you’d honour your word.”  
“I will – but I will not give you absolute power without limitations,” Merlin says.   
He proceeds to explain what he’s done, modified the spell so that Nera can’t abuse her power. He and Arthur wait on tenterhooks as she considers.  
Finally, she smiles. “Of course. I only ever wanted to use my power for good, anyway. Let’s do this!”  
Merlin grins and sits down in front of Nera, their crossed knees touching. Arthur watches as Merlin closes his eyes, takes Nera's hands, and begins the spell.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gwen mutters, adjusting Merlin's tunic.  
“I can’t help it,” he whines, tapping his foot. “What if I trip? Or if I knock over a pitcher of wine all over the tunic? You know how clumsy I am, Gwen.”  
“You’ll be fine, Merlin,” she says soothingly.  
To distract himself from his nerves, Merlin tries to think of other things. It’s been a week since he did the spell on Nera – a week since peace was finally enforced among the wood nymphs. He and Arthur wasted no time on getting the wedding back on track, both eager to be officially committed to each other forever.  
Now that the wedding day is here, though, Merlin is wishing they had given it a bit more time. He glances out the window, but he can’t see anything from here – Gwen has been deliberately keeping him from the hall where they’re doing it, telling him that he’s only to see it when he’s walking in.  
Merlin wrings his hands as Gwen fusses and finally steps back. “Perfect,” she says.   
When Merlin doesn’t look like he’s going to move – or even like he’s capable of moving – she takes his hand and pulls him downstairs. There is no one in sight – everyone is already in the hall. He bites his tongue, telling himself that it will be fine. There are only a hundred or so people, all of whom will be avidly watching him. Nope, nothing to worry about. His hands start sweating.  
Gaius is waiting for him at the door as the music starts. Gwen grabs her bunch of flowers and kisses him on the cheek. “Go on. Arthur's waiting for you.”  
Gaius takes Merlin's arm, and leads him inside.  
Merlin can feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on him, but he has eyes only for the end of the hall. There is his mum, standing behind Arthur. There’s Morgana, beaming. The knights are arrayed around, their eyes shining. Merlin hardly sees them, though. He sees only Arthur.  
Arthur's eyes lock with his and don’t leave as Gaius leads him down the aisle. Merlin seems to float on his arm, and he realises with a shock that his nerves have left him. Of course it’s going to be ok. Arthur is right there, and he’s Merlin's. Forever.  
Merlin hardly hears the words spoken over them. He is hyper aware of his hand as Gaius passes it to Arthur. Then he’s looking into Arthur's blue eyes, lost in them. He feels their skin touching through their palms, and in that moment, it’s as if they are alone in the room.  
It blurs, the rings, the garland, the memorised words they both speak – all he is aware of is Arthur, standing so close to him, staring at him with such love in his eyes that it takes Merlin's breath away.   
Finally, finally, the word is given, and Arthur leans forward, sealing their bond with a kiss.  
“I love you,” he says, loud and clear.  
“I love you,” Merlin replies.   
Holding hands, they turn their bodies towards the crowd, though they have eyes only for each other. As everyone stands up and starts applauding, Merlin closes his eyes, trying to immortalise this moment in his mind forever. He leans into Arthur, how puts and arm around him.   
As Merlin looks at him, he feels joy spreading outwards from him, seeming to infect the crowd around him. Arthur is his, and nothing is ever going to change that. Ever. 

To be continued

That’s the end of part two – third and final part coming soon! :)


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin and Arthur are tangled up in each other, fast asleep, when Morgana bursts into their chambers. Merlin yells and yanks the covers up to his chin while Arthur sits up in a rush.   
“Morgana, what are you doing?”  
His annoyed tone melts as soon as he gets one look at her face. Morgana is pale and shaking, tears dripping down her cheeks.   
“Morgana?” Arthur says hesitantly.   
“I – I had a dream.”  
Merlin stumbles out of the other side of the bed and pulls his pants on before going round to Morgana. He puts a hand on her shoulder and gently prods her to a chair.   
“It’s ok,” he says gently. “Tell me what happened.”  
“It’s not ok, Merlin!” she says loudly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I saw – I saw Camelot burning,” she whispers. “It’s Cenred. He’s amassing an army to take down Camelot.”  
“Cenred would never do that,” Arthur says. “He knows it’s suicide – he could never take Camelot.”  
Morgana is shaking her head. “But he can, Arthur,” she says. “He’s found a way. An old recipe, a sorcerer… no one will be able to stop them…”  
Arthur crosses to Morgana, crouching in front of her so that their faces are level. “Morgana, calm down. You’re not making sense. Just tell me what you saw.”  
Morgana takes a deep breath, seeming to marshal her thoughts. “Cenred's found a sorcerer willing to help him.”  
“Merlin can – ”  
“Defeat any sorcerer Cenred can come up with, I know, Arthur. But even Merlin can’t defeat the sorcerer’s creations. He’s breeding creatures of magic. They are vicious and single-minded, obeying only the word of the sorcerer who conjured them. No magic or weapon can pierce them. Camelot will fall within hours of their attack.”  
There is a tense pause while Merlin and Arthur exchange a look. “We need to go see Gaius,” Arthur says, getting up. “Morgana do you think you could describe these creatures to him?”  
“I couldn’t forget them if I tried to,” she replies in a haunted voice.  
“Good. No creature is undefeatable. Once we know what they are, we can work on a strategy to kill them.”  
Morgana looks doubtful, but she merely bites her lip in silence. Merlin takes her hand and gently pulls her after Arthur, towards Gaius’ chambers.  
Merlin doesn’t expect it to take long for Gaius to find the creatures Morgana is describing – Gaius’ knowledge of such things is vast, as is his store of books to fall back on. However, when dawn starts to brighten the sky, the four of them are still sitting amidst a sea of books.  
“Gaius, surely there must be some record of these things,” Merlin moans, his face in his hands, wanting nothing more than to sleep.  
Gaius just mutters something virtually inaudible and keeps turning pages.  
Bored and worried, Merlin gets up and wanders aimlessly around the room. He puts his hands on Arthur's shoulders, trying to massage out the tension there. After a minute, though, his fingers still.  
“Don’t stop,” Arthur murmurs.  
Merlin takes his hands away as Arthur growls at him, but he isn’t listening. “Gaius, why aren’t you looking at this one?” he asks, pointing to an old and dusty volume. Merlin can see some kind of creature sketched on the spin. Gaius only spares the book a perfunctory glance.   
“That won’t help us – we’re looking for some kind of magical creature. That book is illustrations of humans modified to give them magical powers, turning them into monsters.”  
Gaius goes back to his own dusty tome, but Merlin takes the book down from the shelf, curious. As he opens it, he almost snaps it shut again. The book is filled with gruesome pictures of men and women, writhing in pain, mutating, becoming monstrous. Many of the following pictures show exactly what the new creations can do – raze villages to the ground, kill with a look…  
“Gaius, why aren’t you more worried about these?” Merlin asks in a shaky voice.   
“No need, my boy. Those spells don’t work anymore. The world has changed a lot since those times. Nobody has survived such a transformation in centuries. Magic evolves like everything else, and people simply aren’t able to live through such a thing. Besides, even if there was one miracle case, Morgana's talking about an army of creatures.”  
Merlin nods and closes the book, somehow not feeling as reassured as he thought he would.  
Finally, Gaius shoos them out, telling Arthur he’ll come and find them as soon as he finds anything. Morgana goes back to her chambers to rest, while Arthur heads off to training to brief the knights. Camelot needs to begin preparing for war.  
Merlin hovers, watching the men train, wondering if Gaius has found anything yet. He silently curses Cenred. If only Morgause had killed him. All reports had said he was dead. Merlin has no idea how the druids managed to cure him – no idea why they even would.  
Stupid druids with their stupid help-for-everyone policy and their stupid immortal cup.  
Immortal cup.  
Merlin is up and running before the thought has finished forming in his mind. He bursts into Gaius’ chambers to find the physician in exactly the same place as he was when Merlin and Arthur left hours ago.   
“Gaius,” he gasps. “What if the subject was immortal?”  
“What?” Gaius looks up blearily from the book he’s examining.   
“You said nobody could survive the transformation into one of those creatures of magic from the book. What if they were immortal? If they couldn’t die?”  
Merlin doesn’t wait for an answer, but wrenches the book off its shelf and starts flicking feverishly through the pages, hoping he’s wrong.  
His heart sinks as he comes across a picture, near the middle of the book. The creature looks a bit like a wolf, but it has wide, leathery wings like a dragon, and fangs that sprout down well past its chin. Its eyes are wild and feral, and its claws look sharp enough to rip a man in two.  
“This looks like what Morgana was describing,” Merlin says, his voice sounding oddly hollow.   
“Fetch her,” Gaius says.  
Merlin runs all the way, and after dragging Morgana out of bed, runs all the way back. As soon as she sees the creatures, she cringes away. “Yes, that’s what I saw,” she whispers.  
Merlin examines the page. Unrit, they call the creatures. Gaius is still spluttering in disbelief. “That can’t possibly be!” he protests. “No one can survive that transformation.”  
“The Cup of Life, Gaius,” Merlin moans. “They could survive if they couldn’t die.”  
“But the druids have the immortal cup…” Gaius trails off uncertainly. He meets Merlin's eyes, and they are both thinking the same thing. “We need to visit the druids,” Merlin says.

Two days later, they reach the druids’ permanent camp. Ever since the ban on magic was lifted, the druids have been able to cease their nomadic lifestyle and settle down. Merlin and Arthur dismount and the knights behind them follow their lead.  
Benjan, the current druid leader, comes out to meet them. “My king,” he says, bowing deeply to Arthur.  
“Bejan.” Arthur claps him on the shoulder. “We’ve come on urgent business. Where is the Cup of Life?”  
Benjan’s face pales.  
“Please, please tell me you still have it,” Arthur says, closing his eyes.  
“It was stolen sire,” he says. “Only two days ago. How did you know of it?”  
Arthur groans and Merlin subtly puts a hand on his lower back, rubbing small, soothing circles.   
“Maybe you should come in,” Benjan says. “It sounds like there’s a story here to tell.”  
Benjan listens patiently as Arthur tells him everything they know. Finally, Benjan sits back, sighing, deep in thought.  
“Do you have any idea who could have stolen it?” Arthur asks.  
“Well, judging by your story, it doesn’t matter who stole it – it’s sure to be in Cenred's hands by now.”  
“We need to get it back,” Arthur says firmly. “Whatever creatures he calls into being, as long as they’re not immortal, we can deal with them.”  
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Benjan says wearily. “I, too, have heard of the creatures made out of people. In days long past, when some did survive the transformation, it was said that the changing was the worst experience imaginable. The pain… but once they were already changed, there were almost invincible.”  
“I’m not following you.”  
“I’m saying that the creatures only need the Cup of Life while they are being spelled into what they are. Once the human inside is long gone and the Unrit has arisen, they no longer need to be immortal. You could empty the cup of their blood, but they would still be near-invincible and impossible to defeat.”  
“Then we need to get the cup before Cenred manages to make any of these creatures,” Arthur says.  
“I fear you may be too late. If the lady Morgana has dreamed of the creatures, that surely means they will be called into being.”  
“The future can be changed,” Merlin says, speaking for the first time in ages. “Morgana was to lead an army against Arthur – instead, she is protecting him. Not everything is set in stone.”  
“Of course,” Benjan agrees. “Be prepared, though, for the worst.”  
Arthur gets up, recognising there is nothing else Benjan can do for them. “Thank you for your help. We’ll ride for Cenred's kingdom immediately and try to stop this madness before it’s too late.”  
Arthur quickly briefs the knights and sends Leon and Percival back to Camelot to gather reinforcements. Meanwhile, Arthur takes a small party towards Cenred's lands. If they can sneak in without being seen, they may be able to do this without bloodshed. If not… well, those reinforcements had better come through.  
Arthur is talking fast, trying to think of everything. “We should start collecting supplies,” he says. “If this comes to a siege, we need to be prepared. I should also move up some of the boys’ knight tests – we’ll need all the knights we can get for this…”  
He keeps babbling, sounding rather like Merlin with the incessant noise. Merlin wants to comfort him, to tell him that everything will be ok, but he can’t get the words to come. Instead, he stays close by Arthur, giving his silent support.   
Merlin blinks as the world shifts. Shaking his head, he grips the pommel of his saddle. He’s been having dizzy spells since this morning – probably due to stress and lack of sleep. He doesn’t mention them to Arthur – god knows he has enough to be worrying about right now.  
As the evening draws nearer and Arthur starts looking for places to set up camp, another bout of dizziness hits Merlin, harder than any of the others. He reaches blindly in front of him, searching for something to hold on to, but he can’t see his hands. It’s no good, Arthur is certainly going to notice this – Merlin has to say something.  
“Arthur?”  
He vaguely sees a shape turning – Arthur turning to look at him. “Merlin? What’s wrong?”  
“I feel… funny.”  
Before Merlin can say anything else, he’s slipping sideways of his horse, the world spinning faster than ever. He expects to feel the grass of the forest floor any second. He dimly hears Arthur shouting, but then ever Arthur's voice is spinning away.  
The next thing he knows, Merlin is hitting something very hard – and it certainly isn’t grass. “Ow!” he yells, jerking his face away from the hot, gritty black stuff. He barely has time to sit up before a blaring noise shrills in his ear and Merlin nearly passes out from shock.  
Some giant contraption is heading right towards him. He tries to do a spell, to stop it, but nothing happens. At the last minute, the thing swerves around him, making a screeching noise. Merlin scrambles out of the way, onto some raised surface made of the same black stuff.  
People walking by mutter disapprovingly. Merlin glances around, bewildered. There are huge sorts of monster carriages without horses zooming along at shocking speeds – and the people seem to think nothing of it. Everyone is dressed weirdly, as though this is some kind of costume party. As Merlin looks up, he sees castles. Well, not castles, exactly, but they’re tall and shiny and… bewildering.  
Merlin looks around, panicking, not knowing what to do.  
“Hey? Excuse me, are you alright?”  
Merlin spins around, relief already spreading through him at the familiar voice. Arthur is also dressed in strange clothes, but Merlin doesn’t care. He throws himself into Arthur's arms, thoroughly shaken.   
“Arthur, thank goodness you’re here! I don’t know what happened. Where are we?”  
He realises that Arthur is not comforting him, but that he has gone stiff in Merlin's arms. Arthur puts his hands on Merlin's shoulders and moves him firmly back, breaking the embrace.   
He frowns at Merlin. “Do I know you?”

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

“Arthur, this is no time for jokes,” Merlin hisses desperately. “I don’t know where we are – I promise I didn’t do it on purpose! Now please tell me you know what’s going on.”  
Arthur is staring at him in confusion and disbelief. His eyes hold none of the familiar warmth and affection Merlin is used to. He looks as if… as if he really doesn’t know who Merlin is.  
Merlin's heart sinks and panic starts to set in. “Arthur?”  
Arthur is still looking at him like he’s a crazy person, but he seems to take pity at the panic in Merlin's voice. “What’s your name?” he asks kindly.  
“M – Merlin,” Merlin stammers.   
“Well, Merlin, I’m Arthur – as you seem to know. Why don’t you tell me how we know each other?”  
Merlin's mind is buzzing as he starts to piece things together. The dizziness, the world spinning, him not being able to stop it. As he re-examines the feeling in his head, he realises where he recognises it from. Time travel.  
“Oh no,” he moans. “That’s it, isn’t it? Gaius warned me about the side effects! Damn it, I should have said something the moment I started getting dizzy.” He looks hopelessly at Arthur. “I’m in the future, aren’t I?”  
“Um – ”  
“Oh God, you aren’t Arthur – at least not mine. He’s going to be frantic – I just disappeared! Please, you have to help me,” Merlin says, grabbing the future Arthur's shirt. “I need to get back to him, Camelot's in danger! Please…”  
Future Arthur pries Merlin's hands off his shirt, looking more alarmed than ever. “Ok, you’re alright, I’m going to help you.”  
Merlin sags in relief as Arthur ushers him forward… towards one of the horseless carriages.  
“What is that?” Merlin whispers, cringing away from it.  
“It’s a car. I’m going to take you to people who can help you.”  
Arthur opens the door for Merlin, who just stands dumbly outside it.   
“Go on, get in,” Arthur says, giving him a gentle push. Merlin finds himself inside a small space, full of completely foreign things. He flinches as there is a loud bang next to him, and suddenly the carriage door is closed. Arthur quickly walks around to the other side and gets in, seemingly completely familiar with the workings of the strange carriage.   
He fiddles with things with his hands and feet, and suddenly the whole monstrosity is moving like the others all around it.   
Merlin yelps in shock. “Why are we moving so fast!” he yells, clutching the edges of the seat.  
“It’s not that fast,” Arthur says patiently, “but you may want to put your belt on.”  
Merlin just stares uncomprehendingly at the shiny buttons and levers around him. Sighing, Arthur slows the carriage to a halt – the others in front of him seem to have stopped in front of some kind of red orb – and reaches around Merlin, pulling something across his body and securing it on the other side.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll get some help for you,” he says.  
“Where are you taking me?”  
“To the hospital – there’s one just a few blocks away.”  
“What’s that?” Merlin asks, suddenly having a not-so good feeling about this.  
“What’s a hospital?” Arthur looks at him out of the corner of his eye, seemingly to judge whether Merlin is having a joke at his expense or not.  
Finally, he replies. “It’s a place where doctors help people who are sick.”  
“Help people who are sick? Like healers? But I’m not sick…”  
Merlin's stomach seems to drop into his feet as he realises what this is. Not often, but sometimes people are brought to Gaius who seem to have lost their minds, gone completely crazy. That’s where Arthur's taking him – a place where healers will assume he’s mad. He somehow doubts they know about time travel here.  
“No!” he shouts. “No, you can’t take me, I won’t let you!”  
He throws himself against the carriage door, trying to get out. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of here and back to his time, but he’s sure that he won’t find it easy being prodded and poked by healers who are convinced he’s insane.  
“Hey, relax, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Arthur says, glancing anxiously at Merlin, but keeping his attention focused on the other carriages around him as well.   
Merlin just gets more frantic, jerking at the band across his chest, but it simply gets tighter and tighter, making him panic more. He tries again to use magic, but it won’t come. “You can’t!” he howls. “Let me go!”  
“Alright, alright,” Arthur says placating. “I’ll take you to my place, alright? No doctors. Ok? Now will you please calm down?”  
Merlin manages to stop thrashing, despite the discomfort of the now too tight band holding him in place.   
“We’re nearly there,” Arthur says.  
Merlin closes his eyes, not wanting to watch the too fast carriages, or the giant castles. Those, however, are becoming more distant, and smaller buildings that look almost like houses – alien houses, but still – are coming into view.  
Arthur gets out and walks around to release Merlin. Completely forgetting himself, Merlin falls into Arthur's arms, shaking. “There, there, it’s ok,” Arthur says awkwardly, patting him on the back. “Come inside. I’ll make you something to eat.”  
Merlin lets Arthur lead him through the foreign surroundings and is relieved when Arthur directs him to a chair in front of a large table. At least chairs and tables are something he can understand.  
Arthur goes into another section of the room, with surfaces rather like Gaius’ work benches, and starts fiddling with hard, cold, shiny things. A sizzling sound starts up around him and Merlin looks on anxiously, but Arthur doesn’t appear to be in any danger. Finally, Arthur takes two plates and puts one down before Merlin, sitting down opposite him.  
Merlin is relieved to recognise chicken, and takes a bite at once. He grins widely. He doesn’t know what Arthur did to this chicken, but future Arthur is definitely a better cook than past Arthur. It tastes amazing – greasy and warm and… great.  
Merlin glances nervously at Arthur. Somehow, he doesn’t think any more talk of being from the past and time travelling here will put him at ease. He tries to think fast. He needs to find a way out of this. If he can just work out how to use his magic again, maybe he can get back. While this clearly isn’t his Arthur, surely he’s better than nothing? Merlin wonders if he met this Arthur for a reason; maybe he’s Merlin's only chance of getting back.  
“Um… Arthur, I know how crazy this must all sound to you,” Merlin says slowly, weighing each word. “I just – I just need some time to get my feet, then I’ll be out of here. As soon as I work how. May I stay with you?”  
Arthur frowns, but finally gives in to Merlin's pleading eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I must be mad, but yes, you can stay.”  
“You’ll have to help me,” Merlin says in a small voice. “I don’t know what any of this stuff does,” he says, gesturing around the house. He closes his eyes, waiting for Arthur to try to take him to the healers again.  
“I can do that,” Arthur says. He pastes a smile onto his face. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Merlin, but there’s just something about you… I’ll help you all you need.”  
“Thank you,” Merlin breathes.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur looks frantically around, but there’s no sign of him. “Merlin!” he yells again.   
He turns to his knights. “Where did he go? Did you see?”  
They just shake their heads.  
Arthur takes a deep breath, trying to think through his panic. Merlin will he alright, he has to be. “Spread out,” Arthur says tersely. “Search for him. Whatever happened, he can’t be far.”  
“But sire, the cup – Cenred…”  
“I don’t care about the stupid cup!” Arthur yells. “Find Merlin, do you understand!”  
“Yes, sire,” Lancelot says. Arthur turns away, but Lancelot keeps speaking – reluctantly, but relentless all the same. “Sire, we can’t just abandon the mission. I volunteer to go to Cenred's kingdom myself and retrieve the cup before he can do any harm with it.”  
Arthur pauses, his reason catching up with his heart. “You can’t go alone.” He glances around at the knights. What if he needs all of them to rescue Merlin from whatever has him? Yet if Cenred keeps going unopposed, there won’t be anything for Merlin to come back to.  
“Take Gwaine,” he says, wincing at the loss of two men for Merlin's search. “Find the cup and bring it back.”  
“Sire.” Lancelot and Gwaine leave at once, perhaps sensing Arthur's fraying composure, his ever increasing desire to call them back and demand they help find Merlin. Instead, he turns to his remaining men. “Find him,” he says shortly. He gets off his horse and starts examining the place where Merlin disappeared, looking for any evidence of where he could have gone.

 

“Arthur, do you want a bath?”  
“I was about to have one, actually,” Arthur says. “Unless you want to go first?”  
“Oh, I’ll do it for you,” Merlin says. “It’s the least I can do, considering all the help you’re giving me. Just point me towards the well, and I’ll have a bath ready for you in no time.”  
Arthur's lips twitch and Merlin can tell he’s trying not to smile. “Come here, Merlin,” he says, leading him to a small, white room with tiles on the floor. “That’s the shower,” he says, pointing. “That’s the toilet – I’ve already showed you how to use that. The shower, we can do another day. This is how you work a bath.”  
He shows Merlin how to put the plug in and turns the taps, almost like at a well, only inside his house. “See, the blue is cold, and the red is hot,” he says, pointing to strange symbols on top of the taps. Merlin frowns, not understanding until steam starts rising from one of the streams of water.   
“It makes hot water?” he whispers, reaching towards it.  
“Yes,” Arthur says patiently, grabbing his hand, “but don’t go putting your hand in it, you’ll get burned. You let the hot and cold pour into the bath, then when the water is the right temperature, you get in. See?”  
“Yes,” Merlin says, staring at the bath in wonder.   
“Right, well I’m going to bath. You can read, if you like.”  
Merlin retreats gratefully into the room full of squashy chairs – Arthur called it the lounge. He gets a book down from the book shelf and starts to read. At least books and book shelves are almost the same here. He is soon lost, though, with unfamiliar names and objects that other readers clearly have no trouble with. He picks another and tries again.  
This one, he is pleased to see, must come from his time. Strange, as it doesn’t look very old, but there are real carriages, and normally dressed people, dragons, magic, and definitely not hundreds of strange, tall castles. Merlin gets immersed in the book and only looks up when he hears Arthur coming out of the white room – bathroom, he said. Merlin supposes that makes sense.  
His mouth goes dry as he watches Arthur, still wet, with only a towel draped around his waist. He looks amazing. Merlin averts his gaze guiltily. This isn’t his Arthur. He shouldn’t be having such thoughts about him… but this Arthur looks like his one, no matter how different he may be, and Merlin can’t help the ache of desire that fills him.  
Finally, after what was possibly the longest day of his life, Arthur shows him to the spare room where there is a bed and one of those strange lamps. Arthur does a quick review of how the lamp works, before going to bed himself.  
It takes Merlin a long time to fall asleep, and when he does, he’s not entirely surprised to be thrust into a nightmare. He and Arthur are on opposite sides of a field, with a glass barrier in between them. They both bang on it and shout, but no sound comes through. Then the barrier splits into two, and they are pushed apart.   
Merlin tries to use magic again and again, but it is no good. Arthur is getting further and further away from him, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Somehow, he knows that when he loses sight of Arthur, it will be the last time he sees him.  
Merlin wakes up screaming Arthur's name. 

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

“Merlin?” Arthur bursts into the room, which is suddenly filled with light. He grabs Merlin's flailing arms. “Merlin, wake up!”  
At his voice, Merlin calms slightly, his wide eyes locking with Arthur's. “Nightmare?” Arthur asks.  
Merlin nods, lying back on the bed, shaking slightly. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.   
Many years away, when Arthur wakes up surrounded by his knights, there is no Merlin to comfort him, past or present. He falls back into a fitful sleep, wondering if his sorcerer is ok.

“I’m home,” Arthur calls, throwing his car keys into the bowl by the door.   
Car keys, Merlin thinks to himself. He glances around the kitchen. Kitchen, stove, fridge… He smiles; he’s getting better at this. It’s taken weeks, but he now knows the names of most of the foreign objects, even if he still isn’t perfectly clear on how to use them.  
“How was your day?” Merlin asks, looking up from his book.  
“Exhausting.” Arthur throws himself onto the couch beside Merlin, rubbing his eyes. “You’re lucky you don’t have to bother with university, Merlin – it’s a right pain.”  
“Do you have to go?” Merlin asks.  
“My father seems to think so.”  
Merlin doesn’t reply to this. It seems that even in the future, Uther is still a harsh, demanding father. He’s not Arthur's favourite subject. Arthur sighs and gets up to go to the bathroom.   
“Merlin? Why is there a tub of cold water in here?”  
“Oh – um – I – I just bathed and forgot to take out… the plug, right?”  
“Right,” Arthur says, sounding a little suspicious at Merlin's stuttering, but Merlin hears the water draining out of the tub without further comment. He sighs. He’d filled the tub with cold water and been trying with everything he had to make it hot. No matter what he does, though, his magic doesn’t seem to want to work here.  
He knows there must be some way to make it cooperate – this is the same world, after all, only in the future – but he just can’t figure out what. He doesn’t want to bring it up with Arthur; Arthur seems to have decided Merlin is moderately sane, but any talk of magic will bring thoughts of hospitals and healers back sooner than Merlin can say stop.  
Arthur comes back into the lounge and glances at Merlin. “Do you want to cook with me again?”  
“Sure,” Merlin says easily, getting up. It’s confusing with all of the strange stuff in the kitchen, but he’s learning, and cooking is much more fun than usual when he’s doing it with Arthur.  
After making a rather spectacular quiche for supper, Arthur brings out a bottle of wine and the two of them watch TV – Merlin still can’t get his mind around this, but enjoys it immensely – and drink rather too much.   
As Arthur gets more and more tipsy, he moves closer and closer to Merlin on the couch. Merlin shifts uncomfortably. It’s not that he doesn’t want Arthur – every cell in his body is crying for Arthur – but this isn’t his Arthur. His Arthur is back in the past, where Merlin belongs with him, and Merlin isn’t going to betray him, even with his future self.   
Arthur puts the volume down and leans closer to Merlin, slowly, carefully. Merlin closes his eyes, fighting the desire to reach out and touch him. Arthur's breath tickles Merlin's face.   
“Merlin,” he murmurs. His hand reaches tentatively around Merlin's neck and his lips move closer, seeking Merlin's.  
With a strangled noise, Merlin turns his head away.  
He feels Arthur pull back and risks a glance at him. The hurt and disappointment are plain on Arthur's face, and Merlin feels a rush of guilt.   
“Arthur, I…”  
“I’m sorry, Merlin, that was inappropriate of me,” Arthur says formally, his face closing off. “I think I should go to bed.”  
As Arthur hoists himself off the couch, Merlin puts his face in his hands. Not only is his Arthur suffering, but now he’s causing this one pain as well.   
He also goes to bed early, ready for another hard night. While he tries fruitlessly to make his magic work in the day, at night, Merlin perseveres with the dreams, trying to contact Arthur. It worked in the cave, when much of his other magic didn’t work, so his hope is that it will work now as well.  
Surely, his and Arthur's bond is strong enough to defy the boundaries of time? So far, it seems that he is wrong.  
The dream starts as usual. Merlin doesn’t bother pushing against the glass that separates him and Arthur anymore. Instead, he focuses all of his magical energy on dissolving whatever barrier blocks sound. Arthur is banging frantically on the glass as usual, trying to get to Merlin. Merlin closes his eyes, not wanting to watch Arthur's pain.  
He hardly believes this will work anymore, but he keeps trying, simply because he can’t just give up. This is why at first he thinks he is hearing things.  
“Merlin! Merlin, speak to me! Where are you?”  
Merlin keeps his eyes closed, cringing at the hurt in Arthur's voice.  
Wait, Arthur's voice.  
His eyes shoot open and he sees Arthur's lips moving in time with his words.   
Excitement floods through him as Merlin puts his hands to the barrier. “Arthur, can you hear me?”  
“Merlin, yes, I hear you,” he says, almost sobbing in relief.   
“Arthur, listen to me, I don’t know how much time we have,” Merlin says urgently. “I’ve been pulled into the future – it’s one of the side effects from the time travel thing I did to help Nera's family. My magic doesn’t work here and I need to find a way to make it work so that I can get back to you. You need to find Kilgharrah and ask him what to do. I’ll find you here again when you have the answer.”  
“But – how?” Arthur splutters. “I’m not a dragon lord, I can’t call him.”  
“You’ll have to go to him,” Merlin says fast, sensing that their time is running out. “He lives on a mountain…”  
Merlin quickly explains how to get to Kilgharrah, struggling more every second to keep the sound connection open.”  
“I’ll do it,” Arthur says, nodding vigorously. His face slips a bit and he puts his hand against the glass. “I miss you,” he says, his voice shaking. “Every day.”  
“I miss you too, Arthur,” Merlin says, biting back tears. “But you need to keep going – I’ll get back as soon as I can, but I don’t know when that will be. You need to deal with Cenred as much as you can.”  
“Merlin – I can’t – I can’t think without you here, everything… I need you.” Arthur's voice breaks on the last three words and Merlin's heart seems to swell in his chest.  
“I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise,” he says. “But there still needs to be a kingdom when I do. Ok?”  
“Ok,” Arthur says, taking a shaky breath. “Merlin, I love –”  
But suddenly their dream world takes back its own and comes crashing down upon them. For a second, all Merlin sees is darkness, then he is back in his bed, yelling for Arthur.  
“Merlin, it’s ok, it’s ok,” Arthur says, stumbling into the room. Merlin hasn’t told him that it’s another Arthur he’s yelling for; no matter what the time difference, this is still Arthur of a sort, and his arms are comforting, even though the comfort feels like a betrayal.   
Merlin is half surprised that Arthur still comes in – he expected Arthur to get used to his nightmares after a week or two, but he comes every time Merlin calls, no matter how much sleep that means losing. The fact that Arthur still comes now, even when he’s hurt over Merlin's rejection only serves to make Merlin more upset.   
“I’m sorry,” Merlin mutters. “I don’t mean to wake you every night.”  
“It’s ok, Merlin,” Arthur says gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
Merlin shakes his head, as always. He sits stoically in Arthur's arms until Arthur pats him on the back and goes back to bed. Merlin lies down again, hoping that his Arthur will be able to bring some advice soon.

Arthur wakes up with a start, flailing around in bed, unable to stop yelling. Gwaine is with him tonight. Gwaine isn’t one of the sympathetic ones. Arthur isn’t yelling for long before he is hit on the head with a boot.   
“Wake up, Princess, it’s a dream,” Gwaine says sleepily. For good measure, the next boot flies at Arthur, who dodges it. While Gwaine may not be the most comforting companion, his tactics do get Arthur lucid again faster than any of the other knights and their sympathy can.   
“I spoke to Merlin,” he gasps.  
That gets Gwaine's attention.  
“You found him?”  
“Sort of…” Arthur proceeds to explain everything that’s happened. “Wake me at dawn,” he says. “We’ll leave for Kilgharrah's mountain at first light, just the two of us. Morgana can take over with the war preparations.”  
“And the Utlin?”   
“Gaius hasn’t found anything else on how to defeat them,” Arthur says wearily. “I think we need Merlin for that. We have the cup of life, so at least Cenred can’t make any more of them, if we can only kill the ones he has.”  
Gwaine grunts unhappily. They are no closer to working out how to defeat the Utlin than they were weeks ago when Merlin disappeared. Arthur just hopes they can get Merlin back before it’s too late.

“Arthur, do you have any books on weapons?”  
“Weapons? That’s not your usual interest.”  
Merlin shrugs. Arthur is going to get them help on how to get back, but when he does, Merlin still needs to find a way to defeat Cenred's creatures. He figures that the creatures are from the distant past; they probably won’t need to deal with future weapons.  
“I don’t have any books, but you can search it on the internet,” Arthur says. “You remember how to use the computer?”  
“Um… maybe we could just go over the basics a few more times?”  
It takes a while, but when Merlin has finally found his rhythm, the internet is a treasure trove of information. He soon finds that humanity has used a great deal of energy and imagination on thinking up the most effective killing tools. Merlin is particularly interested in the ones they call “guns”.   
He examines pictures of the deadly little balls, shot at great speed. Surely, the Utlin wouldn’t have any defences against that? There’s no way to be sure, but Merlin doesn’t think so. The original creators of the creatures wouldn’t have known to give them protection against flying metal balls.   
If he can get hold of some guns and take them back to his time, he could arm the Camelot knights, and they could take down the Utlin in waves. Unfortunately, it seems that you need a licence to get a gun, and from his reading, Merlin realises that he’s not a citizen, so he won’t be able to get one gun, let alone enough for all the knights.  
That leaves Arthur, but how is he supposed to explain that? Hey Arthur, I was just wondering if you could get me a couple of dozen guns and lots of extra bullets. You know, to fight the near-immortal monsters who are attacking my land hundreds of years in the past. Yeah, that’ll go down well.  
He and Arthur continue to share nightmares, but each night, Arthur shakes his head; no, he hasn’t reached Kilgharrah yet. Merlin doesn’t try to enable speech again, afraid that it won’t work if he does it too often, and he really needs it to work when Arthur finally has the answers they so desperately need.  
So Merlin continues to live side by side with future Arthur, and he can’t help growing closer to him. He keeps strict boundaries on their physical relationship, but he and Arthur develop an easy friendship, which reminds Merlin so much of what he and his Arthur have that his heart is constantly aching.   
Still, he can’t bring himself to push future Arthur away. He seems so much happier, recently, and Merlin gets the impression that he doesn’t have many other friends.   
At night, after the nightmare has woken him up and Arthur has gone back to bed, Merlin curls up under the blankets, waiting for sleep to take him again, wishing that he could get back to his Arthur, missing him so much it hurts. “I love you, Arthur,” he whispers. 

To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

Merlin waits in the nightmare, watching for the familiar defeated shake of Arthur's head. It’s been weeks; he doesn’t know what, but something must have gone wrong. It surely can’t take this long to get to Kilgharrah.   
Merlin watches Arthur, but something is different tonight. Arthur has a blazing, hopeful look in his eyes, and he gives Merlin the signal they’ve both been hoping for over the past weeks: a firm nod.  
Merlin doesn’t hesitate, but immediately starts picking at the barrier between them, trying to open it up to sound.  
He knows it’s worked when Arthur's voice filters through. “Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me?”  
“I hear you,” he sighs in relief. “Did you find Kilgharrah?”  
“Eventually,” Arthur says grimly. “We got there and waited for days – he was on a long hunt or something. Anyway, when he got back, we talked to him.” Arthur looks upset as he frowns at his feet.   
“There is a way, right?” Merlin says, his voice rising shrilly. “I can get out of here? Arthur?”  
“Yes, you can,” Arthur says quickly. “You’ll just need your magic back in order to make it back here. Your magic won’t work, though…”  
“Arthur, what is it?”  
“Kilgharrah said we’re two sides of a coin. He said that without me, your magic won’t function as it should.”  
“Well how’s that supposed to help? I can’t get you here to make my magic work! If I could, I’d have done that ages ago.”  
“I’m already there,” Arthur says quietly. “The Arthur with you – he’s still me. Me in the future. He doesn’t have my memories, but we’re the same person. You need to accept him, Merlin. Love him. Commit to him. Only then will your magic work.”  
“No,” Merlin whispers, gaping at Arthur. “Arthur, I can’t – I won’t betray you like that!”  
“There’s no other way,” Arthur says, running his hands through his hair. “I need you back, Merlin no matter what that takes. You need to do it. Promise me you’ll do it.”  
“Arthur, I –”  
“Promise me.”  
“But –”  
“Promise me, Merlin.”  
“I… Ok, I promise,” Merlin sighs hanging his head. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”  
“Just come home,” Arthur says softly. “The rest we can deal with later.”  
“It may not be at once,” Merlin warns. “There’s something I need to do – when I get back we’ll still need to defeat the Utlin.”  
“You have a plan?” Arthur's eyes light up at this.  
“I think so, it’s –”  
But the fragile connection suddenly shatters and Merlin wakes up in his bed in the future.

The next day, Merlin is nervous and shaky all the time Arthur is at university. He knows that he needs to act fast. His Arthur is waiting for him. He needs to accept the connection between future Arthur and himself – and act on it – without delay.  
That evening, after supper, they sit and watch TV as usual. Arthur doesn’t deviate in his subtle movements, getting gradually closer and closer to Merlin. This time, Merlin doesn’t fight it. He leans into Arthur, breathing him in, resting his head on Arthur's chest.  
“Arthur?” he murmurs.  
“Mmhmm?”  
Merlin leans up, his lips questing. He has a split second to see Arthur's look of surprise before they are kissing, and then Merlin forgets everything else. Maybe this isn’t the Arthur he knows, but it’s still Arthur and Merlin's body is going crazy, clinging to his broad shoulders, his head spinning as they kiss like there’s no tomorrow.  
Merlin can feel flutters of magic inside him, coming to life under Arthur's touch. The lights flicker, but remain on. Cushions throw themselves off the couch as Merlin gasps for breath.  
Panting, he breaks away, looking into Arthur's beautiful blue eyes. “I love you,” he says clearly.  
Arthur's mouth opens, surprise and joy mixed on his face. “I love you,” Merlin continues, “but I have to leave.”  
“What?” Arthur's happy expression crumples.  
“I’m from the past,” Merlin says. “You’re the future; I belong with you in the past. Look, I can show you.”  
Now that he can finally prove to Arthur that he’s telling the truth, Merlin doesn’t hesitate. He mutters a spell, holding out his hand palm up.   
A flame dances over his palm and Arthur yells, trying to beat the flame out.  
“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” Merlin says. “It’s magic, Arthur. I don’t think it exists in this time, but it does in mine. I’m trapped here and I need to get back.”  
Arthur is just staring disbelievingly at him.   
“Here,” Merlin says. He proceeds to move the furniture around, levitate various things and cause a bottle of wine to fly over and pour itself into two glasses for them. After draining his glass in one hasty gulp, Arthur turns his gaze shakily to Merlin. “It’s all real?”  
“I’m afraid so,” Merlin says. “Now that I have my magic back, I need to leave.”  
Arthur's face is once again set in lines of hurt, but he tries to smother it. “Of course,” he says.  
“Before I go, though, I need to ask for your help. In my time, we are under attack...”  
He explains all about the Utlin and Cenred, about how Camelot is preparing for war.  
“You’re really Merlin,” Arthur muses. “A lot got lost in the legends. King Arthur really was the greatest king ever known, though – they got that right.”  
“Arthur, focus,” Merlin says, snapping his fingers. “We don’t have much time – the sooner I get back, the sooner I can help defend Camelot. I need guns; lots of them. We’ll use them to defeat the Utlin – they’ll have no defences against technology from this age.”  
“Um… just how many guns will you be needing?”  
“At least four dozen,” Merlin says. “Hopefully more. Arthur, I know this won’t be easy, but I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. Please.”  
Arthur hesitates only for another moment. “Of course. Yes, I’ll get them for you.”  
Merlin can see that he’s thinking hard, wondering how he’s going to get four dozen guns without getting into trouble with the city guards – police, Merlin reminds himself. He leans up to kiss Arthur. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you,” he says softly. “It seems our destinies are entwined, no matter what time in history it is.”  
Arthur makes a couple of calls before declaring that they both need a good night’s rest. He pauses outside his room. “Sleep here tonight?” he asks.  
Merlin nods, taking his hand and letting himself be drawn into Arthur's room. They kiss for a while, but they are both too worn out by the emotional stress of the evening to do much more. As Merlin cuddles up in Arthur's arms, for the first time since he entered this strange new time zone, he doesn’t have nightmares.  
The next few days are a blur of preparation. Arthur stops going to university, but sits at home making phone calls, going out every couple of hours to meet someone. Merlin mostly just watches him, knowing that there’s not much he can do. Three days later, Arthur brings it up again.  
“I’ve got some of the guns,” he says. “The rest, I can probably get within a week, but you need to be taught to use them; they’ll be no good to you otherwise. Luckily, my father owns a shooting range. None of the gamekeepers will care if I turn up for some practice. We’ll be safe there.”  
“I trust your judgement,” Merlin says, leaning forward to kiss Arthur, feeling the familiar mix of guilt and the wonderful comfort of being close to Arthur.   
“Good. We can leave in an hour.”

The shooting range is huge and empty, with a few sporadic trees and some targets. Merlin feels comfortable here, away from all of the futuristic surroundings. The feeling of comfort disappears as soon as Arthur starts teaching him to use the guns.  
“Normally you’d start with something small like a pistol, but considering you won’t have much time to practice, and that they’ll be coming at you in waves, this is better,” he says, holding out a long, heavy gun. “If you hold your finger on the trigger, it will shoot continuous bullets at the Utlin.”  
“Sounds easy enough,” Merlin says, reaching for the gun.  
It turns out that it is not nearly as easy as it sounds. After Merlin has finally gotten over the shock of the huge noise the guns make, he struggles to shoot for more than a few seconds.  
“It keeps going up,” he complains after once again shooting most of his bullets into the sky.   
“It does that,” Arthur says. “Try to hold it down, but if you can’t, just stop for a moment and bring it back down before shooting.”  
After Merlin has mastered that – as well as can be expected what with his skinny build – they move on to safety and reloading and a million other little things that Arthur wants him to learn.   
Finally, at the end of the day, Merlin's nerves are shattered from all the loud banging and his fingers ache from clutching the trigger.  
“Good,” Arthur says, clapping him on the back. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow?” Merlin squeaks. “There’s more to learn?”  
“You’ve just about got the basics, but you need to be able to aim,” Arthur says. “That can take years of practice, but we don’t have years. You’ll just need to put in as many hours as you can. I imagine that people who have practice with aiming bows and such would be quicker studies – it would take them a while, but they should be able to adjust their techniques so that they can at least partially aim the guns. So choose carefully which knights you give these to.  
Arthur is as bad as his word; aiming is very difficult. Merlin spends hours on the shooting range the next day, from sunup to sundown. Arthur leaves him to make some calls and see a few people about getting the rest of the guns, dropping back in briefly to bring Merlin lunch.  
“We should have the rest by tomorrow afternoon,” Arthur says a few days later. Rather than looking pleased by the accomplishment, he looks sad and downcast.  
“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks.   
“It’s nothing. You just need to practice some more.”  
He kisses Merlin on the cheek before retreating to the small house by the edge of the range that they’ve been staying in.   
Arthur stays away all morning the next day, only appearing once again with lunch. Merlin's nerves are on edge. What if the time travel doesn’t work? What if the guns don’t come with them?  
“It’s all ready,” Arthur says dully. “I’ve packed everything into a big bag for you – guns, spare bullets, everything. You can leave.”  
Merlin takes Arthur's hand and leads him to the little house.   
“I don’t want you to go.” Arthur's voice is so soft and pleading that Merlin hardly hears it.  
He closes his eyes, a single tear escaping. “I know,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Arthur, but I don’t belong in this world. I belong in the past, where I was born.”  
“I’ll never see you again.” It is a statement rather than a question.   
“I’m so sorry,” Merlin repeats.   
Arthur hangs his head. Finally, when he looks up, he has a broken look on his face, and he looks a lot younger than he usually does. “I’ll miss you, Merlin. I don’t regret anything.”  
Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur's neck and kisses him. “I’ll miss you, too,” he says, tears now pouring freely down his face. “I have to go,” he chokes.   
Arthur's arms slowly loosen around him and Merlin stumbles back, afraid he’ll change his mind if he stays any longer.   
“I love you, Arthur.”  
“I love you, Merlin.”  
Merlin takes in this last sight of future Arthur as he starts the spell, clutching the bag of guns with everything he has. The room starts to spin, and Arthur's face spins around Merlin's head, taunting him with broken eyes and streaming tears. “I’m sorry.” Merlin doesn’t know if Arthur hears his last whisper before he is gone from that world.  
The world gives one final lurch and Merlin is thrown to his knees, bashing into the bag of guns and stabbing his knee on one of the sharp bits.  
“MERLIN!”  
Before he can so much as blink, Arthur is running at him, grabbing him, squeezing so tightly Merlin can hardly breathe, but Merlin doesn’t care. He is still crying, and he barely knows the reason anymore. Arthur is kissing him and Merlin is kissing back, oblivious to the fact that they are kneeling on the very uncomfortable, lumpy surface of the gun of bags.  
Of course Arthur's chambers in this time would be located at Arthur's shooting range in the future. Both places of training and defence, ever connected throughout time.   
Arthur pulls back, just letting his eyes take Merlin in. “I thought I’d lost you,” he says.  
Merlin just throws his arms around Arthur's neck. “I love you,” he mumbles over Arthur's shoulder. Even as he speaks, even as the joy of having Arthur back almost overwhelms him, Merlin feels a stab of sadness. He has his happiness back, as does Arthur. Yet the Arthur in the future… Merlin has broken his heart.

To be continued


	19. Chapter 19

The people of Camelot cower at the noise, no matter how much Arthur tries to explain to them that this is a good thing.   
“They’ll be fine,” Merlin says reassuringly. “We have a way to defeat the Utlin – that’s what matters.”  
Arthur nods absently as he watches his knights practicing with the guns Merlin brought back form the future. The noise is horrendous, but it has to be done.  
“You should get some practice, too, you know,” Merlin says.  
“You’re right. Come on. We can practice together.”  
“Arthur, you’re not going to waste a gun on me,” Merlin laughs. “You know I’m useless with weapons. The other Arthur despaired at me ever getting better – he was relying on the knights to be more adept at this than I am.”   
Arthur doesn’t comment on the sad note in Merlin's voice that appears every time he talks about the Arthur he had to leave behind. They haven’t spoken of it yet, but Arthur feels increasingly like he should bring it up.   
“I’m not leaving you defenceless against them,” he says briskly. “Your magic won’t work against the Utlin. You need to be able to fight them off.”  
“But –”  
“This is not a discussion, Merlin. I am not losing you again, and that’s an end to it.”  
Merlin is wisely silent as he follows Arthur to the training grounds. The knights have set up sturdy targets, but they keep having to be replaced, as bullets are certainly harder on targets than swords and arrows.   
“Ok,” Merlin sighs. “Let’s do this.”

They practice for days, getting as good as they possibly can in the given time. Scouts report on Cenred's army. They are on the move, getting closer and closer to Camelot every day.   
Merlin, while obviously overjoyed to be back with Arthur, still becomes withdrawn and sad at the mention of his time in the future. Eventually, Arthur swallows his fear and talks to him about it.  
“Merlin?”  
“Yes?”  
“I wanted to ask you something.”  
“You can ask me anything, Arthur.”  
Arthur takes a deep breath. “Do you regret it?” he asks in a rush. “Coming back? You always seem so sad when anyone mentions it – did you prefer it in the future… with him?”  
Merlin turns around so that he is facing Arthur and laces his hands around the king’s neck. “Arthur… there is nowhere in the world – past or future – that I would rather be than with you. I love you. I felt like I was dying when I was away from you.”  
“Then why –”  
“I used him, Arthur,” Merlin says in an agonised voice. “I used him to get my magic back, then I left him. It wasn’t decent. I was so desperate to be with you again, I was prepared to do anything, and I don’t regret it… but I still wish there was another way. He’s all alone now. I broke his heart, and I can’t even say I’m sorry.”  
Merlin buries his head in Arthur's neck, tears springing up in his eyes.  
Arthur holds him tightly. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” he says softly, stroking the sorcerer’s hair. “I didn’t know… but if he’s really another version of me, he’ll understand.”  
Merlin sniffs and nods tearfully. “I know. I just… I just still wish he could have happiness, too.”  
Arthur doesn’t know what to say to this, so he settles for kissing Merlin on the forehead. “I love you,” he murmurs.  
“Love you, too.” Merlin takes a deep breath and pulls away. “Come on. We haven’t got much more time to practice before Cenred arrives.”

Arthur stands straight and tall as he watches Cenred's army approach. Beside him, Merlin fidgets with his gun.  
“Merlin, if you shoot your foot off…”  
Merlin reluctantly lowers his hands, watching anxiously.   
“What if they guns don’t work on them?” he whispers.  
“They’ll work,” Arthur says, though there is a note of uncertainty in his voice. “They have to.”  
Both he and Merlin gaze at the army of nightmares before them. Cenred has hundreds of men, but those they can deal with. It’s the Utlin that are the true nightmare – dozens of them, running in front of the army, frothing at the mouth and eager for blood.   
“Hold,” Arthur calls to his tense knights. They have tested the range of the guns, and know very well how close the Utlin need to be before they start shooting. Arthur's plan is to let them get well in range, so that even if they try to retreat, it won’t be in time and the knights of Camelot can wipe out the monsters once and for all.  
“Hold,” Arthur calls again.  
The Utlin are nearly at the city walls. Gaius doesn’t know if they can climb and Arthur isn’t taking any chances. They are right at the walls now.  
“Fire!” Arthur yells. The air is immediately rent with ear splitting bangs as the guns fire and keep firing. Merlin holds his breath, waiting, hoping… the Utlin start to stumble and fall under the hail of bullets.  
“Yes,” Merlin whispers. He keeps his own gun at the ready, but doesn’t fire it – Arthur insisted he have it for self-defence if necessary, but Merlin has his own job to do.  
His eyes glow gold as he seeks out the sorcerer who did this. Merlin sees him, riding near the back of the army with Cenred. Merlin whispers a spell and watches it go whooshing towards the small party.  
As he expected, the sorcerer puts up a shield at the last minute. Merlin can taste the shield with his magic. It’s powerful… but not as powerful as him. “Game on,” Merlin whispers.  
It seems to go on for days, though it could really only be hours. The Utlin are single-minded in their determination. No matter how many of them fall, they keep coming, keep getting mowed down by the knights. Merlin doesn’t notice when a cheer goes up among the knights, when there are no more Utlin left and men replace them.   
The knights rush out to meet them, weapons in hand. The knights of Camelot are more than capable of repelling any army, and without the Utlin, Cenred has no chance.  
Most of this, though, is lost on Merlin. He is engaged in a furious battle with the sorcerer. They throw spells at each other, only to be blocked. Merlin is tiring, but he can tell that the other sorcerer is fading faster. He doesn’t dare try to attack the knights of Camelot, for that would mean letting his guard down for a moment. Merlin's brow furrows in concentration. If he can just…  
He shouts another spell and watches it fly towards Cenred and his sorcerer, oblivious to the chaos around him.  
“Yes!”  
Arthur looks up in time to see Cenred's party engulfed in a ball of flame. He spares Merlin one glowing look before raising his sword up high. “For the love of Camelot!”  
“For the love of Camelot!” his knights echo. With that, they are chasing the invaders – who are in full, hasty retreat – yelling like madmen.   
Merlin has strict orders to stay behind. Of course, he ignores them – there’s no way he’ll let Arthur run off unprotected. He unlocks the safety on his gun and runs after them. Luckily, Arthur is too distracted to notice Merlin's presence.   
It’s really too easy; the invaders have no chance against the superior weapons of the future. Merlin looks around, checking for any threat to Arthur. One of Cenred's men sneaks up behind him, but the next second he crumples, just as the golden glow is fading from Merlin's eyes.  
All in all, it takes a few hours to totally decimate Cenred's forces. In the end, the last few are running for their lives, lost and without a leader, with the knights of Camelot in hot pursuit. Arthur lets his gun tip drop to the ground as he surveys the scene, sweaty and panting.   
“Arthur?”  
Arthur spins around, looking annoyed, but not particularly surprised. “Merlin, do you ever do as you’re told?” he asks, a hint of a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.  
“Nope.” Merlin smiles and holds out his hand. “Leon and the others have got it now. Let’s go?”  
Arthur glances around the battlefield, but there is no one left alive. Already, the citizens of Camelot are wandering on, starting to collect the bodies. Arthur sighs and slumps. “Yes, let’s go.”  
Merlin takes his hand and leads him back to the castle. “They attacked us, Arthur,” he says, seeming to read the king’s mind.  
“It was slaughter,” Arthur murmurs. “They had no chance.”  
“If they had the choice, we would have been the ones who were slaughtered – they went and created the Utlin. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have needed to bring weapons from the future.”  
Arthur nods, looking more weary than anything else. Merlin knows that it will take him a while to come to terms with what happened, but what they both need now more than anything is a hot bath and a good meal.   
Unfortunately, Merlin still has work to do before that can happen. “Get one of the servants to draw you a bath,” Merlin instructs. “I’ll meet you in your chambers in a few hours. I need to treat the wounded.”  
“No, I’ll come with you,” Arthur says.  
“There’s nothing you can do.”  
“I can be there and let them know that their king appreciates what they did.”  
Merlin sighs but doesn’t argue. He and Arthur quickly find Gaius, who directs Merlin to those injured who need Merlin's attention. Luckily, they got off lightly – with not many wounded, it is only a couple of hours before Arthur and Merlin stumble back to their chambers, confident that they have done everything they can.  
They stop at Gaius’ chambers to get Merlin's medicine on the way. Merlin still needs to figure out a sustainable way to counter the effects of the time travel so that he doesn’t get accidentally pulled into the future again, but for now, Gaius is making him a potion to keep him firmly in the present.   
Gaius suspects that the side effects will wear off on their own with time, but he still wants to do some tests to be sure. Merlin, however, persuades him that testing can wait for another day and he drags Arthur out of the room and to their chambers before Gaius can call them back.   
“Now, how about that bath?” Arthur murmurs. There is a little more light in his eyes – seeing people healed, after all, is much more inspiring than killing them.  
“Sounds good.” Merlin's eyes are drooping with tiredness, so Arthur summons a servant to draw the bath for them. It is all they can do not to fall asleep in the water, and as soon as they are both clean, Arthur and Merlin stumble into bed, not once letting go of each other.  
“You did it,” Arthur says sleepily, his eyes already drooping.  
Merlin gives him a gentle kiss. “We did it,” he corrects.

Arthur sighs as the doorbell rings. He’s already regretting agreeing to let Lancelot's friend from university stay with him. Arthur doesn’t even know the guy, but Lancelot is his best friend and Arthur can hardly refuse him.   
All Arthur wants to do nowadays is be alone and mope. Merlin was only with him for a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. He’s only been gone for days, but it feels like forever since Arthur saw him. He’s beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a dream.  
Arthur opens the door with a glum expression on his face. The expression freezes as he looks into a pair of blue eyes, framed by a mop of dark hair. “Merlin?” he whispers.  
“Hi, you must be Arthur,” Merlin says, holding out his hand. Arthur shakes it, his mind whirling.   
“Please come in,” he stammers. He shows Merlin to the spare room, trying to get his breathing under control. “So, you’ve been Lancelot's friend for long?” he asks in a strangled voice.  
“Two years, now,” Merlin says cheerfully, dumping his bag on the bed.  
Two years. That means this isn’t Merlin – not the Merlin Arthur knows from the past, anyway. He feels like he should be disappointed, but he isn’t. As he looks at Merlin, he feels hope burgeoning in his chest. He was never meant to be with the other Merlin. That Merlin belonged to a past Arthur. This Merlin, though… this one could truly be his.  
Arthur forces himself to push away his shock. “Make yourself at home,” he says. “I’ll make us some dinner.”  
“Thanks.” Merlin's eyes are shining as he looks appreciatively at Arthur, and Arthur sees the same thing in those eyes as he feels deep inside himself: hope. 

To be continued


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: So this is the second last chapter – just the epilogue after this. The last two chapters will be a bit shorter than the others, as there isn’t much story left; I’m just tying everything together now. Enjoy! :) 

xxx

“Stay,” Merlin mumbles, grabbing Arthur's arm as he tries to get out of bed.  
“I need to train,” Arthur says, but Merlin smells victory in his unsure tone.   
“Stay with me,” he coaxes. He pulls on Arthur's arm. “Leon can take training for today. You haven’t had a lie-in for ages.”  
Arthur sighs and throws himself back into bed. Merlin smiles smugly as he moulds himself to Arthur's back, his arms looping around the king’s chest. “If Camelot falls because the knights were sloppy from when I didn’t go to training, it’s on you,” Arthur warns.  
“Fine,” Merlin says sleepily, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder.   
Arthur turns around to kiss him lazily. When one of the servants comes in to check why Arthur isn’t at training, he tells her to make Leon take the training, and get him and Merlin some food. Merlin strokes Arthur's hair, burrowing further into him, but his mind is far away, many years in the future…

xxx

Arthur's hands slide down Merlin's sides as their breath mingles. His tongue pushes into the other man’s mouth and they press against each other. Arthur is panting and pushing into Merlin, but Merlin starts to draw back.   
“Merlin? What is it?”   
Merlin leans back on the couch, fiddling with the TV remote. “I need to tell you something.”  
“Ok, what is it?”  
Merlin glances nervously at Arthur. “Um… listen, Arthur…”  
“Are you breaking up with me?” Arthur demands, his stomach clenching at the thought.  
“No, no,” Merlin says quickly. “It’s nothing like that. Just – ok, this is going to sound very strange, Arthur. I know you won’t even believe it’s possible – no one does nowadays – but please, I need you to trust me.”  
“I trust you,” Arthur assures him. Merlin looks like he’s about to be sick and he’s twisting his hands so violently that Arthur grabs them in the interests of saving Merlin's fingers from injury.  
“I have magic.” Merlin's voice is soft and scared, and he doesn’t look at Arthur while he speaks. “Not like those magic tricks you learn, but real magic, magic that defies the laws of physics.”  
“I know.”  
Merlin's eyes shoot up to meet Arthur's. “You know?” he whispers.  
“Merlin, you have many talents,” Arthur says fondly, “but subtlety isn’t one of them. Most people actually need to touch the light switch to turn the lights on, you know. And don’t think I didn’t hear you break that vase; repairing it perfectly and pretending nothing had happened wasn’t the smartest strategy if you didn’t want me to know about the magic.”  
“But – but –”  
Arthur smiles patiently as Merlin splutters, entwining their hands.   
“No one believes in magic, not anymore,” Merlin says shakily. “What made you? How did you think the things I was doing were magic in the first place?”  
Arthur smiles. “You’re not the only one with a secret, Merlin, and I’ve certainly been better at hiding mine. You see, this isn’t the first time I’ve met you…”  
Merlin listens raptly as Arthur tells him the whole story.

xxx

Arthur pauses at the door go Gaius’ chambers when he hears heated voices inside.   
“Gaius, I have to go, just to check,” Merlin whines. “I can’t stand it, I need to…”  
“It’s too dangerous,” Gaius says sternly. “You may not be able to get back –”  
“I’m sure I will,” Merlin says, but he stops speaking abruptly when Arthur walks in.   
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking between the two grave faces.   
“Nothing,” Merlin says, blushing. “We were just talking about herbs, Gaius really needs this rare one from the forest…”  
“Merlin.” Arthur levels him with a stern gaze. “Tell me what you’re so worried about, or I’ll get Gaius to tell me.”  
Merlin glances at Gaius’ resigned face before sighing and turning back to Arthur. “It’s Arthur – the other one. I want to go and check on him. I just left him all alone – I need to see that he’s ok.”  
“As I was telling Merlin,” Gaius cuts in, “it’s far too dangerous. We’ve only just managed to stop the side effects of the time travel as it is. Any more, and we don’t know what will happen. He could be stuck in the future permanently, for all we know.”  
“No way, Merlin,” Arthur says.   
“Arthur, it’s my fault if he’s suffering,” Merlin whines. “I need to…”  
“Come on,” Arthur says, holding out his hand. “Let’s go; we can talk about this in our chambers.”  
Once they have the privacy of the king’s rooms, Arthur sits Merlin down on the bed. “Right, Merlin. That Arthur in the future – he’s a future me, right?”  
“Yes…”  
“Then, obviously, I am the best one to judge what he would want, correct?” Arthur doesn’t wait for Merlin to reply before continuing. “If it were me – and it is – I wouldn’t want you to do anything that could trap you forever away from your friends and family. He won’t want it either, Merlin.”  
“But –”  
“No buts. You know I’m right. He wouldn’t want it. Checking on him may make you feel better, but only until the side effects of time travel kick in. Future Arthur can take care of himself. Just let matters take their course.”  
Merlin slumps into Arthur's side, not having a counter-argument. “It’s not fair,” he mumbles.  
“I know,” Arthur says soothingly, rubbing circles on Merlin's back. “I’m sorry, Merlin.”  
They sit there for a while, just holding each other, before Arthur breaks the spell. “Why don’t you come to training this afternoon? You can work on the bullets again.”  
This catches Merlin's attention. “Yeah, ok,” he says. “I think I’ve almost got it.”  
Arthur laughs, and Merlin hits him on the top of the head. “Really,” he says.  
Arthur chuckles, but doesn’t dissent. Ever since they defeated Cenred's army so easily, Merlin has been trying to find a way to make more bullets for the guns. They may have plenty now, but they will run out eventually, and if the knights of Camelot are to keep their advantage, Merlin needs to find a way to make more bullets.  
However, he underestimated how difficult it would be. He knows how to shoot a gun, but he still doesn’t really understand how the mechanism works, so bullet creation has involved a certain amount of trial and error, as well as picking apart various elements of the weapons.  
The knights love to watch him at it – so does Arthur, come to that. Merlin's gleeful grin is so childish that it never fails to bring an affectionate smile to anyone watching as he plays around with his toys.  
“Come on,” Arthur says, kissing Merlin's neck and pulling him up. Arm in arm, they walk towards the training grounds. 

xxx

“Cheater!” Arthur accuses.   
Merlin smiles innocently at him. “Tell them that,” he says, flicking his eyes towards Will and Gwen. Arthur rolls his eyes. Sure, he’ll just tell Will and Gwen that his boyfriend is using magic to cheat. Perfect.  
Arthur nudges Merlin out of the way, aiming his dart carefully at the board. He’s good at darts; has been ever since he was a kid. Arthur Pendragon is not used to being beaten. His dart flies true, landing in the centre ring… though not as centred as Merlin's. His skill is no match for Merlin's magic.  
“Cheater,” Arthur whispers again.  
“You love it,” Merlin whispers, lacing his hands around Arthur's neck, his eyes glowing gold as a wave of heat moves through Arthur, from his toes right to the top of his head. Arthur catches his breath. He knew he shouldn’t have told Merlin how much it turns him on to watch him do magic.   
“That makes it even worse,” he says. “How am I supposed to concentrate?”  
“Maybe you’re not,” Merlin murmurs, his lips very close to Arthur's. “It’ll do you good to lose at something once in a while.”  
“I don’t lose,” Arthur says.  
“We’ll see about that,” Merlin whispers, pressing his lips to Arthur's, completely shattering his concentration. Arthur wants to be annoyed, but he melts into Merlin's arms with a helpless moan. Gwen and will are clearing their throats loudly, but neither Merlin nor Arthur can hear them.

xxx

Merlin lies in Arthur's arms after the candles are out and all the servants have gone to bed, just listening to their breathing. In the sleepy, comfortable silence, he feels himself start to drift off.  
Arthur feels Merlin suddenly stiffen in his arms. “What is it?” he asks urgently as Merlin gasps. “Merlin?”  
“It’s Nera,” Merlin says in a faraway voice.  
No, Arthur thinks. No, no, no. Not the last wish, not now, when they are so happy. He really doesn’t want their lives to be messed up right now – and Nera's wishes have hardly been easy so far. He closes his eyes. “What does she want?” he asks, dreading the answer.  
“She has used her last wish,” Merlin says dreamily. “Here, let me show you.”  
Arthur doesn’t know what Merlin means, but takes his hand without protest. At once, his mind is filled with a vision that isn’t his.   
He is watching the scene from the front, standing directly ahead of two figures, though they don’t seem to notice him. The room is strange – there are whirring metal contraptions, and a strange light flickers from some kind of window behind him.  
Arthur gasps when he recognises the figures before him: him and Merlin.  
He glances at the Merlin by his side, wondering if he’s going mad. Merlin, though, is smiling.  
“It’s them,” he says. “The future Arthur – he found me in the future. We’re together, after all.”  
Only then does Arthur really look at the scene in front of him. He and Merlin are entwined on the couch, kissing fiercely, their faces alight, hands moving everywhere on each other.   
It is without a doubt the strangest thing he has ever experienced – watching himself kissing Merlin, with another Merlin standing beside him.   
The Merlin on the couch breaks away, looking around. He looks straight through Arthur and Merlin, but still seems to sense something. “What is it?” future Arthur asks.  
“Nothing,” Merlin says, leaning back over Arthur. “I’ll tell you later.” There is a knowing little smile on his lips as he leans back to take Arthur's mouth.   
“I love you,” Arthur mumbles.  
“Love you more.”  
“Not a chance.” Arthur presses Merlin into the couch, making him moan underneath him.   
Nera's voice breaks through the scene, loud and clear to Arthur and Merlin, but their future counterparts seem to hear nothing.  
“Be happy.”  
The scene shimmers and Merlin's bright eyes are looking into Arthur's.   
“Was that…?” Arthur whispers.  
“The future,” Merlin confirms.  
He throws his arms around Arthur, smiling in relief and joy. As Arthur leans in to kiss him, he sees all the years ahead of them, years in which Camelot will prosper and thrive under their rule.  
Nera's last wish echoes in his head. Be happy.  
And so they are.

To be continued


	21. Chapter 21

“You’ll do fine,” Galahad says, clapping Kay on the back. “They’d be crazy not to elect you.”  
Kay bites his nails nervously as he nods. He shoots a glance at his fathers, both of whom are watching the square below them. “You’ll do fine, Kay,” Merlin says soothingly. “You’re by far the best candidate, and the people love you.”  
“I hope so,” he murmurs.   
“Oh come on,” Morgana says, grabbing his arm. “I’m not letting you watch if you’re going to be like this. You can help me choose a dress for the coronation.”  
Kay shoots Merlin and Arthur a martyred look before allowing himself to be dragged off. While Kay isn’t technically Morgana's son, she’s always treated him as such – and she has a right to, Merlin supposes, seeing as she carried Kay for him and Arthur for nine months.   
Arthur watches them go, looking worried. “Is it too soon?” he asks Merlin as soon as they are out of earshot. “He’s so young… what if he’s not ready?”  
“He’s twenty five, Arthur,” Merlin says. “That’s not much younger than you were when you became king – and besides, he’ll still have you for guidance if he ever needs it. It’s much better this way – imagine if he only started all this when you died.”  
Arthur's worried face relaxes into a small smile and he leans over to kiss Merlin. “You’re right, of course,” he says. Merlin wraps his arm around his husband’s waist and watches the spectacle below. It took a long time to organise, but the results are well worth it.   
The people of Camelot mill around in the square, casting their votes for the next king. Whoever is chosen will spend a few years under Arthur's guidance before Arthur formally steps down and hands over control to the new king. Most of the candidates are sons of knights, but Arthur allowed anyone to try for the throne, regardless of birth.  
“They’re done!” Gwen rushes up behind them, her eyes bright with excitement. “Now it’s just the counting of the votes.”  
Arthur squeezes her shoulder affectionately. “I suppose we should go down,” he says. “Where’s Lancelot?”  
“He’s with Galahad – the poor boy is so nervous. I wasn’t sure about his choice at first, but I’ve really come around, watching him these past few months. If Kay wins, Gal will make a fine second in command.”  
“That he will,” Arthur says warmly. “Come on, let’s go.”  
The three of them go down to the round table, where all of the candidates are assembled. Gwen goes at once to her son. Merlin shoots Kay a smile, but doesn’t speak, as Arthur has just called for silence.   
“I want you all to know,” he says to the room at large, “that whatever the outcome of today, what I have seen in these past few months gives me nothing but confidence for Camelot's future. Each and every one of you is fit for the throne, and I know that you will all give your support to whoever is chosen. Thank you, all, for allowing the people of Camelot the chance to choose you for their new king.”  
Kay is the first to start clapping, and the others soon follow. Merlin looks around at the small group of people, and though he is nervous, the sight settles him slightly. While each of these men would dearly like the throne, he knows that they will accept it if they fail, putting their support behind the new monarch, whoever he is.   
Everyone settles down while they wait for the counting to be done. Most of the counts from the outlying villages have already come in, so it shouldn’t take too long for Geoffrey to tally everything up. Merlin knows Gwen tried to persuade him to give her a hint as to who was leading, but he’s not surprised that Geoffrey kept the secret well-guarded.  
“I wonder if any women will give it a try next time around,” Morgana muses, sidling up to Merlin. “It’s a shame I probably won’t get to see it.”  
“I’m sure they will,” Merlin says. “It’ll take time for people to accept that Camelot can as easily have a queen as a king, no matter what decrees Arthur puts in place.”  
Morgana doesn’t seem to be listening – she’s watching Kay intently. “I suppose we are doing the right thing,” she murmurs, a questioning note in her voice. “Letting the people vote, that is. I mean, Kay is Arthur's son – he could have taken the throne without any votes necessary and no one would have known anything different.”  
“No, this is the right thing to do,” Merlin says. “Arthur and Kay discussed it – we’re all agreed it’s best for the people to have a choice, to be fully in support of whoever their king turns out to be. Arthur offered, you know – he said that if Kay didn’t want it, he wouldn’t hold a vote and we’d go the traditional way. Kay shot him down.”  
Merlin smiles fondly at his son. “He’s so like Arthur like that – he believes so strongly in fairness, no matter what it means for him.”  
“Well, he’s certainly got a good chance at it,” Morgana says. “I’m pretty sure he has the support of all the Druids, at least.”  
“Though he’s lost the support of others because of it,” Merlin points out. “It’s been over thirty years, but some people still don’t trust magic.”  
Morgana rolls her eyes before throwing a fond glance at Kay. His eyes remain a clear blue, though, with no trace of gold. Merlin taught him well, and Kay never flaunts his magic or uses it for anything bad. He’s become quite the healer, though – he trained with the Druids for a couple of years and came back performing miracles for nobles and peasants alike.  
Arthur comes up behind Merlin, wrapping his arms around him. “You nervous?” he murmurs.  
“Aren’t we all?” Merlin chuckles.   
Before either of them can say anything else, Geoffrey opens the doors. “The count is up,” he says solemnly. “We are ready to make the announcement.”  
Arthur leads the candidates out into the square to a raised platform that was prepared beforehand. He and Merlin stand apart from the others – though they would have preferred to be by Kay's side, Arthur insists that they at least try to remain impartial.   
Geoffrey stands up on the platform, holding a small slip of paper in his hand. So small, to carry the future of Camelot.  
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, “over the past few weeks, every citizen who wishes to has had the chance to vote for their next king. We have meticulously counted the votes and come to the conclusion of this event.” He clears his throat importantly, squinting down at the paper, though he surely already knows which name is on it.  
The whole square seems to hold its breath.  
“With a majority of seven out of every ten votes, the next king of Camelot is Sir Kay Pendragon.”  
There is a split second in which Kay turns, seeking Arthur's gaze and finding pride and joy shining back at him from his father’s face. Then the square erupts in cheers.  
Merlin throws himself across the platform, grabbing Kay's shoulders and hugging him fiercely. Arthur isn’t far behind, and soon Gwen, Lancelot and Galahad join the pile. The other candidates are cheering and clapping Kay on the back.   
Geoffrey struggles to make himself heard over the clamour. “The ceremony will take place…”  
He trails off, looking scandalised when nobody pays him any attention.   
“In three days, we know,” Arthur shouts in his ear – he has to shout, as it’s the only way he’ll be heard. Geoffrey frowns; he had wanted to stick to tradition as much as possible and crown the victor at once, but Merlin put his foot down. Whoever was elected would want to celebrate, not sit in a stuffy room and listen to boring speeches.   
Kay is embracing Galahad, laughing, his face still alight with joy. “Go on, son, have your party,” Arthur says indulgently. “We’re proud of you.”  
Kay doesn’t need any more prompting than that. He and his fellow ex-candidates join arms and stroll off to wherever they have planned their celebration, stopping to talk to excited people on the way.   
“I knew he could do it,” Arthur says, his face shining with pride.   
“We both did,” Merlin says.   
“You’re both liars – but I did,” Morgana says.   
Merlin gasps. “You didn’t!”  
She smiles smugly.   
Arthur splutters indignantly at her. “You dreamed this and you didn’t tell us?”  
“You know that seeing the future causes more trouble than good, Arthur,” Morgana says. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to have ruined the surprise.”  
“How long?” Arthur demands. “How long did you know?”  
She just smiles cheekily at him and saunters off.  
Arthur turns to Merlin, who promptly bursts out laughing. Arthur can’t manage to keep a straight face and throws his arm around Merlin's shoulder as he chuckles.   
They stand arm in arm, watching their son disappear into a crowd of well-wishers.   
“It’ll be strange,” Arthur says, “not ruling anymore. When the time comes.”  
“He’s got it well in hand,” Merlin says. “You’ve only been training him since he was two.”  
Arthur rolls his eyes, but squeezes Merlin's hand, unable to keep the smirk off his face.  
The two men watch their son as he takes the mantle of all their wishes and dreams, and carries it into the future.

The End


End file.
